The couch isn't as rough a place to spend the night as James expected. Actually, it's pretty comfortable with the addition of a pillow and one of the thicker blankets that normally stays down in the den. Not on par with his own bed, of course, but that's to be expected.
It's a sacrifice he's willing to bear in exchange for somehow managing to get Keith to come out here. He's still not sure how he actually swung that. One second, he was shooting the shit with him over their last lunch before the fall break… the next, he was inviting him to join in on his own vacation.
The fact that Keith just… said yes feels like a small miracle. Not for any logical reason, if James lets himself think about it. Keith doesn't turn him down often, and never without good reason. Maybe it feels like he should've said no because this is something bigger for the two of them, well beyond their usual plans together. For sure, it's no quick on-campus lunch break or after-class gym session.
It feels like poetically good timing, like this is what they've been building toward for the past year.
Well, not the vacation exactly. More the ambiance, the escape from their routine, the inherent romance of the setting. This is the perfect place to finally make his move, isn't it? They've spent enough time building up their friendship, haven't they?
Now's the right time to tell Keith he wants more. However Keith answers, it'll be a true answer. No more 'what ifs' every time James hesitates to act, convinces himself he's not ready to go so far. At least he'll come out of this break knowing for sure… even if it pushes Keith back to the distance he kept in years past.
Imagining that distance edging back in stings even now. Real as it once was, a world where Keith isn't a daily fixture in his life is unthinkable. James hardly looks back on the days before they first met, as lost as they've gotten in the purpose that proving himself to Keith brought.
The confession itself would be a bit easier if James had planned any of it out, though. James can do anything if he just has a plan. Instead, it's been one change after another keeping him from sitting down to think about how he'd like to do this.
First, it was getting an extra plane ticket booked last minute, which was made more complicated when he realized Keith had never flown before. Contrary to popular belief, James does have a heart and a bit of empathy, at least enough to realize the right way to do it would be to book the same row on the same flight for the two of them. It's not like he could've tossed a first-time flier on a random flight and told him to deal with it. That alone would've ruined James' shot with Keith. Keith hadn't been forthcoming with it, but James saw the way he flinched at takeoff, cringed at the surprise symphony of a nearby airsick passenger, and shuddered at touchdown. For that last one, he was shaken enough to readily accept James' hand when he offered it, and it had felt like a sign of how perfectly the rest of the trip would go.
But even before that, he'd had no idea how to get to security. Luckily, they shared James' car to the airport, and the two of them got there plenty early, because in line for general security, Keith had offhandedly mentioned the full-size bottled water he'd packed in his carry-on. After pulling them out of line, taking them on the long hike back to the baggage check they'd passed right by earlier when James had thought they had nothing to check, and the return trip to the security checkpoint, the line had tripled in length.
But it worked out, so that has to count for something. They still made it through the obnoxiously long line—though he will be enrolling Keith in CLEAR before the next trip… assuming there is a next trip—with enough time to spare to grab a hurried lunch near their gate, even if the gate itself had standing room only. So they had to stand in a corner and inhale their sandwiches in the couple minutes left before boarding. So what? It was fine.
Then it had been the drive, most of which was a little icier than James had planned for, and there wasn't even any snow to show for it… just miles and miles of off-and-on black ice. What should've been an hour long trip out to the cabin turned into an hour and a half, and James' focus had been so locked on the road that he hadn't been able to spare an ounce of attention for Keith and the conversation they could've been having on the way there. That had been his chance to set the tone for the trip, to gear Keith up for something romantic.
In his defense, his tight grip on the steering wheel and single-minded care for how exactly he was braking and accelerating got them there in one piece. And he must've done at least a passable job, considering Keith never said a word about it.
The stress of it had thrown him off so much that he hadn't even thought to take advantage of the short time where they had the cabin to themselves yesterday, before—
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.
Speak of the devil.
James lets the noise pull him the rest of the way out of his not asleep but not quite yet awake state, but he doesn't need to crack his eyes to recognize Kinkade's gait down the stairs. Never has he met anyone else who honest to god clomps his way downstairs. It's significantly less annoying when James' bedroom door is there to serve as a layer of muffling, but the openness of the living room does nothing to muffle the atrocity this morning.
Kinkade stops short with a soft, surprised 'oh,' which pulls his attention enough to actually open his eyes and peel himself upright enough to try to catch sight of what's managed to get that reaction from his friend.
"Sorry," Kinkade offers when they lock eyes. "Did I wake you?"
"I was already kind of up," James tells him, leaving out the part where he admits he would've liked some private time to pull himself together before socializing first thing in the morning.
"Still… sorry," Kinkade says. "I would've been quieter if I'd known it was you down here."
"It's oka—what?"
"Sorry?" Kinkade tries again.
"Yeah, I caught that part," James says sarcastically. "What do you mean if you'd known it was me?"
"I just thought…"
"Were you going to be a dick if it was Keith down here?"
"…not any more than he was to you," Kinkade deadpans.
"Come on, man," James huffs. "I said we're past all that, alright?"
"Yeah, you said a lot of things."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Kinkade, ever the one to shut down an argument, closes off at the first sign of the conversation brewing over into an actual fight.
"Nothing," he tries to deescalate.
But James has no such defuse button, especially when it comes to Keith. James can bury, bury, bury with the best of them, but that's with the people he needs to impress. Kinkade isn't someone he has to perform for, not anymore.
"It's too early for that shit," James complains openly. "Just say what you're trying to say already."
"Jesus, fine. All I'm saying is that I remember you saying the same thing in high school, several times. And a month later, he'd be at your throat again, and I'd be saving your sorry ass again."
Ah. It's been a minute since he's been so straightforwardly reminded of the way other people had viewed their interactions, how James' reputation had saved him from the assumptions just as easily as Keith's had damned him to them. Neither of them had been right, but Keith had overwhelmingly been the one to take the blame for it.
"It's not like that anymore. We're not kids anymore."
"We weren't kids the last time he bashed your face in," Kinkade reminds him.
James swallows back fear. Kinkade has never failed to take his side.
"What if… I played my part in that one?"
"Do not start blaming yourself for any of that," Kinkade orders, but his tone's soft. "We all know what Keith was like in high school. Selfish, angry, looking for a fight anywhere he could… You didn't do anything to deserve—"
James never imagined this part, admitting to the portion of those fights that Kinkade didn't witness. There's never been cause to own up to it before, not when it can only possibly make him look bad. It's going to change the way his best friend sees him. Permanently.
But the alternative is watching his best friend hate his crush when what he really needs is some support in progressing from crush to dating.
"I was… I…"
The words feel locked away as far from his mouth as they can get. At the tips of his toes, maybe.
In a blink, Kinkade is dropping onto the couch at James' side, pulling him into his chest. He's warm, solid, but the sensation can't overpower the creeping chill that overcomes him. This isn't something they do. By any measure, Kinkade is his closest friend, the one person he can go to with almost anything.
But in the decade they've known each other, they've never once hugged.
"…I was terrible to him," James whispers into his chest, almost hoping the thick layer of fleece will dull his words enough that Kinkade won't be able to make them out. "When no one was looking, I was always trying to get under his skin."
Kinkade takes a deep breath, sighing it out.
"Okay… why?"
Hell if he'd known what made it such a compulsion back then, but with the torture of hindsight…
"I like him."
"Buddy…"
"Don't," James warns. "If you're trying to convince me I don't, keep it to yourself. It's not… new. It's been like this for years."
Kinkade sputters.
"Years?"
"Look, I already know. I shouldn't have kept it from you. I…"
"You don't…" Kinkade starts, fishing for his next words, "…owe me stuff like that. You forget I know what it's like in that screwed up brain of yours. I'm not mad that you didn't tell me sooner, just… surprised. Keith? Really?"
James can only nod.
Keith.
Really.
The two of them could pick the whole thing apart. His dad will be pissed at the final irrefutable proof that James isn't the perfect, straight son he raised. Their high school friends will recognize the pathetic pining for what it was rather than letting it remain the justified reaction to what they saw as one-sided bullying randomly lobbed at James through no fault of his own. Keith himself will recontextualize everything James has ever done.
"I don't like it," Kinkade declares.
"I know," James responds, miserably aware of the years he let Kinkade stand up as his number one supporter in the crusade against Keith. "I never should have let you think I was innocent. I… knew what I was doing. Not at first, but eventually, I did know. I chose not to say anything."
"No, I mean… I've watched him hurt you so many times. I'm trying to be supportive, I swear, but I don't think I can sit back and let him hurt you again."
"He won't," James promises, certain in that at least. "He wouldn't."
Keith's never swung without James swinging first.
And if he doesn't like James back… it's really James hurting himself, isn't it? Too many months reading into all these foreign interactions for the two of them—that's all it is. If anything, it's his own fault for waiting until now to take a translation dictionary to their past and get to deciphering.
Half of his meals are spent with Keith. His afternoon chemistry lecture is an entirely optional elective for his own major, solely chosen to spend more time with Keith. Switching from his old rotation of gym equipment to twice weekly sparring sessions was nothing but an excuse to engage in yet another time-sink with Keith, one with the added bonus of getting his hands back on him without the harmful goading it used to take to send him into an impulsive rage.
There's no doubt in James' mind that Keith has worked his way into a neglected, vulnerable corner of James' being. He can't deny that he's liked it.
And Keith? He shows up to every one of those meals without James having to invite him, long past the point of having to ask what time to meet up. Almost without fail, they arrive to the same dining hall within five minutes of one another for breakfast, lunch, and sometimes dinner. They've built up their shared schedule to fit around their separate obligations: James' routine dinnertime study sessions with his psych classmates, Keith's regular proof-of-life meetups with Shiro, both of their sporadic all-nighters during exam season. Keith works around James' schedule just as much as James accommodates Keith's, and it never feels one-sided.
Keith's the one always barging his way into James' chemistry class performance, offering his help when James doesn't pick up a concept immediately. At first, it grated on James, the thought that someone else could tell he was struggling… but there's something different when it's coming from Keith. Maybe it's knowing that he would never put in that extra effort to help just anyone. When Keith volunteers his help, that means something.
Probably not so much with the sparring, admittedly. That one was a spur of the moment decision for James, inspired by less than two minutes of Keith complaining over lunch that Shiro had increased his work hours and couldn't spare the time for it anymore. With the way Keith lights up when the two of them are grappling, it's hard to imagine him unhappy with whatever gym partner he could find. Which is whatever. One less thing for James to point toward as a sign that Keith might just take his confession as well as he's dreamed.
But all together, it must—
"Earth to James?" jogs him out of his musing.
"Sorry," he mumbles, shifting himself out of the close quarters Kinkade has put them in. "Still waking up, I guess."
"Uh huh," Kinkade agrees half-heartedly, letting him add the foot of gap between them. "I'm sure."
"I'm going to talk to him this week," James admits in an effort to move on from the awkward lapse into silence. "It's about time I say something."
Kinkade sucks in a sharp breath.
"Oh, wow. You, uh… You think here is the right place for that?"
"Well, yeah," James answers, sure of at least that much. "It's perfect. It's winter break, so no pressure from school, no classes or clubs to run off to in the middle of the conversation, no bedtime to worry about. And how much more of a romantic backdrop can you get than freshly fallen snow at sunset? This is what I've been waiting for."
"Love the enthusiasm, man, but… didn't you guys come here together?"
"Yes?"
"In a car you rented?"
"Yes?"
Kinkade sighs.
"And you don't see any issue with springing this on him when he's kind of trapped out here in the sticks…?"
"What? No, he's not trapped here," James corrects. "It's a vacation either way."
"Uh, no. If he's also interested in you, then sure. It's a vacation… but if he's not, then you're putting him in the most awkward situation in the world."
"No way," James doubles down. "There are way more awkward situations than us deciding we feel differently and should only be friends."
"And if this makes it weird? If he doesn't want to be friends once he knows you've been trying to get together this whole time?"
"We're both adults," James reminds him even though he's suddenly less sure of this whole thing. "We can be civil for the rest of the trip if it doesn't go well."
"I know you can be civil… It's Keith I'm worried about."
"Well, don't. We'll both be fine."
"Okay, well, if you're sure… when are you planning to do this?"
Huh. Further proof he needs to lay out a plan, and soon.
"At the market," James proposes on a whim. "I'll do it today so I don't waste the whole week worrying about it. We'll meet back up earlier than the rest of the group, and I'll tell him then."
Kinkade nods.
"Sounds like a plan," he confirms. "We'll have to take both cars to comfortably fit everyone anyway, so if we need to, we can have Keith ride back with me instead of you."
The thought of that is simultaneously painful and comforting. On the one hand, it's a clear plan. On the other, it's a reminder that the worst could happen. It almost makes James want to take it back and put it off until the last day out here.
But this trip isn't about being careful. James has done enough of that. Today, he's going to be brave.
Before they can dig further into the plan, the rest of the house starts waking up. There's enough noise coming from upstairs that it's a safe bet that no one is still out, but Ina is the next to show face.
"Morning," she greets the two of them, not waiting for a response before taking over the far corner of the sectional with her collection of notebooks and a textbook.
Her abnormal psych textbook, to be specific, which… ugh. James should probably be studying for that exam too. It's scheduled for the day after the break ends. He's pre-booked his studying periods for the full semester and covered all the material already, but maybe it was a mistake not to plan a refresher session over the break.
Later. He'll handle it later. After he figures out the Keith situation.
That laissez-faire attitude lasts all of a few minutes before he's caving into his go-to crutch.
"Hey, Ina?" he asks, ever so casually. "Are you going to study for abnormal later this week too?"
She hums, reading through the rest of a paragraph before actually considering the question.
"Yes," she answers. "I think I'll do flashcards on Wednesday… unless you'd like to quiz each other then instead?"
"Sure," he agrees, overeager.
As if his entire friend group isn't well aware of the way James spirals when he tries to wing things. There's a comfort in making plans. He probably knows all he needs to pass this exam… but he needs that security blanket of a plan. His eagerness to get in on a study session was never going to surprise Ina or anyone else in this house.
That established, he's able to evade the spiral and move on to breakfast, knowing he'll circle back to studying in a few days.
Unfortunately for the entire house, Kinkade isn't on one of his baking kicks. Last year, they really lucked out. Kinkade's classes had been harder that semester, and rather than studying, his method of choice for handling the stress had been baking. Breads, cookies, pastries, and even a few uncategorizable experiments that nevertheless had tasted great. Everyone rode that wave while it lasted, and it was well worth never having a standard meal if it meant never having to put the effort into making anything.
As it stands, Kinkade has moved beyond that stress, or so say the three eggs he pulls out of the fridge and starts scrambling. A shame.
James moves to the fridge to check for himself what the delivery service stocked for them this time. Listen, he's well aware he should make out a list for these things, but realistically, randomly tapping his way through the website's suggested items has worked out more often than not… excluding the time they ended up with two hundred key lime flavored yogurt cups. In his defense, that happened once.
This week, they have plenty of eggs, several cuts of meat, an assortment of greens he doesn't care to peruse just yet, and most importantly, significantly less than two hundred yogurt cups. Assorted flavors, even, so he did well.
The pantry holds more, but James doesn't look further than the package of blueberry muffins he finds front and center. There could be something better if he keeps digging, but damn if the effort doesn't sound worthwhile. Besides, he's seen Keith eat plenty of muffins in the dining hall, which means he can plate one for Keith while he's here.
He will be making up for all of his failures yesterday, and that starts with breakfast ready and waiting when Keith wakes up. That's one thing James looked forward to growing up, and what better way to honor those memories than to share them with Keith? It's nothing huge, but the little surprise of finding out he'd been considered even in his absence as he slept… that was everything. Even after his mom got busier and quit setting out breakfast for him herself, it was still… sort of the same when his newfound nanny took over the process.
James is still nibbling on his own muffin at the dining room table when Keith appears.
His stomach drops immediately… because why are Keith and Rizavi showing up together?
It's irrational, he tells himself. One of them probably accidentally woke the other up. That's all. Rizavi showers at night, so they wouldn't have had to wait on one another to get a turn in one of the showers. They just happened to take the same amount of time to prepare for the day, and so they just happened to run into each other upstairs and come down here together.
Worse than them arriving as a pair, though, is the furtive smiles they're flashing at one another.
"What's for breakfast?" Rizavi asks, eyes then landing on the extra plate set at the place to James' direct left. "Ooh, Griffin, did you get me a muffin? How considerate!"
"Back off," James tells her, probably more coldly than he should. "Keith, muffin?"
Rizavi draws back slightly, eyes widening. Scratch that 'probably' and make it a 'definitely.' Shit. He'll have to smooth that over later… after he gets over the hurt himself, though.
"Oh, uh. Thanks," Keith acknowledges, settling into the chair next to James.
Something loosens in his chest as Keith bites into the offering and Rizavi slinks off where he doesn't have to see the disappointment in her face.
Kinkade finishes plating his own breakfast and wanders in with a heaping serving of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Not far behind him, Rizavi returns, this time with a bowl of reheated pasta. She takes it to the far end of the table. Predictably, Ina doesn't join them. She has her moments, but it's rare to find her at breakfast.
When Rizavi doesn't begin regaling the group like usual, Kinkade takes up the mantle, which unfortunately turns into a twenty minute lecture about camera lenses that James doesn't have the heart to interrupt despite the way everyone but Kinkade seems bored to tears by the subject matter.
"Are we going to the market now?" Ina asks from the doorway after the scraping of Rizavi's and Kinkade's forks dies down. "I can't focus on my notes, so I'm ready."
"I don't mind going a little early," Kinkade agrees, standing up to take his plate to the dishwasher.
James turns to Keith to get his opinion before he decides on his own, but in the time it takes him to do so, Rizavi swoops her way in.
"We always do the market on our first full day here," Rizavi fills Keith in. "It's this cute space in town where most of the shops are, and for the holiday season, these other ones pop up with like… tents and stuff so they can be right near the action too. There are all kinds of snacks you can get there, like caramel popcorn and candy apples and—"
"You're drooling, Rizavi," Kinkade teases.
"Why are you guys all being mean to me today!? So a girl likes her food. Sue me!"
James uses the distraction to take over while he can.
"It's where we go to get souvenirs and gifts," he adds. "We wander around together to see what's out there, and then we split up so everyone can keep the surprise if we're getting each other something there."
"Sounds fun," Keith says.
With that, they have a majority vote to head to the market early so they can come back and have more of the evening open later. It only takes the group stepping out the front door for James to get his heart stabbed at again. In the time it takes him to press the lock button on the door and turn back around, Rizavi has Keith by the hand and is dragging him over a thin layer of fresh snow to the Audi Kinkade must've rented.
James' mouth falls open before he realizes. He has no claim to Keith. He can't very well insist that Keith ride to the market with him if he's content to go along with Rizavi. It's not his place.
Kinkade pauses and frowns understandingly toward him before opening the driver's side door. James can only shrug it off as though he's not bothered.
"You wanted Keith here," Ina states from her spot in James' passenger seat, the same one Keith took up less than a day ago. "Why didn't you tell him?"
Sometimes, Ina is too perceptive for her own good.
"It doesn't matter what I want. Keith is his own person. He can make his own choices."
"It's hard to make the right choice when you don't have all the information, though."
"Ina," James says with a sigh. "Drop it."
Obediently, Ina turns to her phone instead. The ride to town is filled with low-volume Christmas music and no conversation whatsoever. It might be uncomfortable if his mind weren't full of all the things that could go wrong and all the ones that already have.
Once they find a parking spot and make their way to the others, it's only to find Rizavi still locked in conversation with Keith. Catching sight of them, Rizavi leans in close to whisper something to Keith before shoving at him and sending him stumbling toward Ina and James.
Ina takes the opportunity to swap places, making her way over to Rizavi to start up a conversation of their own. Keith regains his footing quickly enough and thankfully continues the path to James' side.
"Hey," Keith greets with a sigh that almost sounds relieved, as though they've been apart for the eternity James felt rather than the thirty real minutes of drive time.
"Hey," James returns. "Having fun with Rizavi?"
"Yeah, I guess. I thought I was seeing Drunk Rizavi all this time. Didn't realize she's just always like that."
James snorts at that.
"You've got that right," he agrees, trying to imagine what it would've been like to first meet Rizavi not sober. If anything, she's a tiny bit toned down with the aid of alcohol.
The others start walking toward the first outdoor shop, so James nudges the two of them toward it as well.
"Just so you know," he says after a moment, "there's no pressure to buy anything here. I know it's not something you had time to save up for or whatever. We mostly window shop anyway, and if you really want something, it's no big deal if you ask me to buy it."
"I can't—"
"You can, actually. I want you to get what you want out of this trip. Just tell me if you see something."
Keith doesn't seem convinced but doesn't protest again, so it feels like some amount of progress.
They fall into the familiar routine, with Rizavi doing eighty percent of the commentary while they others chime in on occasion. They ooh and ahh over the handcrafted goods, quietly disparage the 3D printed items, and pause at one of the shops for a hot chocolate break.
"Oooh—" Rizavi starts when James buys two of the drinks and goes to hand one off to Keith, but before she can say whatever it is, Kinkade sticks a finger to her lips, shaking his head at her.
Keith doesn't seem to notice any of the interaction, and James isn't sure whether or not he wishes he would've. God. He's not even sure anymore if today's the right timing for their talk, not after everything so far this morning.
The break goes a little long after Ina suggests sticking around to warm up a bit before getting back to it, and James uses the time to mentally review his shopping list.
"We're probably going to split up from here," James warns Keith. "For two hours or so, enough time for everyone to buy anything they don't want the rest of us to see right away."
"Yeah, okay. I wanted to check out a couple things," Keith reveals.
"Let me know if I can help," James reminds him, but Keith still doesn't seem interested in the offer. Or at least, he physically waves it off and doesn't bring it back up before they're all splitting up as planned.
James tries not to let the thoughts of Keith being out there on his own detract from his own fun time. Keith spends plenty of time on his own. This is no different.
This is entirely different, his stupid brain supplies.
He shoves that thought back by turning his focus to his first purchase: Rizavi's popcorn. That's one he never has to think about. Every year, the entire group gets her tins of the local popcorn she raves about, and every year, she's ecstatic to get the same thing.
At the shop, he takes a couple minutes to deliberate. There's a new seasonal flavor this time, but it's a gamble. Peppermint flavored popcorn… It sounds disgusting, but it also sounds like something Rizavi would end up liking in spite of the gross-out factor.
Screw it.
"Good choices," the cashier tells him. "The caramel is a classic, and the peppermint is a fun way to mix it up. We're having a buy two get one free sale this week if you want to throw another one in. I'd recommend the white cheddar, or if you want another sweet option, the dark chocolate is always good."
Well, he wasn't planning to be carrying so much this early on, but that's one more thing taken care of. If today goes well, maybe he and Keith can share the extra one tonight. He blushes at that, shaking away the thought. There will be none of that until he finishes up here and finds Keith.
That's where his secret weapon comes into play. A quick text while Keith wasn't looking was all it took to get Kinkade to begrudgingly announce to the group that they'd meet up at three o'clock. Speaking of, James should update everyone else now before he loses track of time.
Actual meet-up is 4pm, he texts their old group chat so everyone except Keith can see.
There. Now he just has to show up to meet Keith at three, feign ignorance, and take him on a walk, just the two of them. That'll set the mood, and he'll have a whole hour to work himself up to saying what he needs to say.
Time's on his side, but not if he keeps letting himself get distracted from what he's supposed to be doing.
Kinkade should be another easy gift with how long they've known each other, except he's frustratingly quick to get himself anything he wants the minute he wants it. Everywhere else, he's such a 'think it through' and 'sleep on it' kind of guy, but when it comes to his wallet, he's the most impulsive person James knows… which is saying a lot, considering Keith is right there. Last Christmas, James found nothing. Not one thing felt right for Kinkade, and his final decision was a gift card for his favorite bookstore. He'd opened it and thanked James with the same gratitude he'd laid on Rizavi and Ina, but it still doesn't sit right with James. His moment of weakness left Kinkade with such a generic gift almost anyone could've gotten him, and that cannot happen two years in a row.
His best shot is that… yeast. It doesn't strike him as some special gift, but Kinkade spent such a long time staring it down while they were wandering as a group that James knows it's special to him.
Who cares if James doesn't get it, really? If it'll make Kinkade happy, it's the right choice.
That leaves his other worry… that one of the others also noticed his fascination with the yeast. Is it something Kinkade would appreciate having two of? Or will it be a disappointment to open it once and open it yet again a minute later? Will he use two yeasts for… whatever the hell he wants yeast for?
Maybe he should've nudged him into a conversation about it while they were browsing earlier. He could've found out what Kinkade wants to do with it.
Or maybe he should've taken the time earlier this month to figure out what Kinkade would want. It's not like he didn't know he'd be a struggle to shop for.
Well, maybe he could've done that if he hadn't been so hyperfocused on his relationship with Keith—or lack thereof. All the time he might have spent on this went to thus far failed confession plans, so that's great.
He'll just shop for Ina and Keith first, think on it for a bit. Something will come to him.
Ina is difficult in a different way. Kinkade, he knows too well, well enough for it to be a sign of disrespect if he doesn't pick the right present. Ina, despite the way it feels like she's been around longer than she has, only started hanging out with them a couple years ago after she and James met in their freshman psychology class.
A couple years should be plenty of time to get to know a person, but Ina's not the type to let herself be known. On exceedingly rare occasions, she reveals a glimmer of herself unprompted, but the day to day is very… pragmatic. Every word from her mouth has a purpose, like each one costs her a fortune. She weighs things over before she ever decides to share them, and James can only imagine how much goes unsaid.
The one exception was in the first month or so of getting to know each other. Something about that had started her out more open, more willing to say whatever.
If James lets himself think about it too much, it grates on him, makes him wonder if he's doing something wrong… but if he is, then so is everyone else he knows. Ina's not any different with the rest of them.
…usually. She was more extroverted last night once they were all together as a group.
And now James is worrying about that. Great.
There's a trinket shop that'll probably be his best bet. Plenty of variety, and nothing too personal. He shoves his hands into his pockets before braving the outside again. His breath fogs up in front of him as he exits the popcorn shop and turns toward his next stop.
Involuntarily, his mind turns to Keith, wondering what he's doing. Is he in one of the brick and mortar stores, keeping warm? Or is he braving the pop-up shops, looking for something specific? Was James clear enough that there's no expectation for Keith to buy a gift for any of them, or is he spending his last dollar on something he feels pressured to get?
Keith's not like that, James reminds himself. His world doesn't revolve around money the way James' always has.
He probably shouldn't be jealous of that, not when it comes with the background Keith dealt with. James hasn't had it that bad. Just because he can't see an incoming call from his father without risking a panic attack doesn't mean he has it as bad as Keith did. His life is privileged… Funny how easy it is to forget that.
Turning the final corner, he picks up his pace a bit, eager to get back inside a warm space. He breezes right past the front displays, not willing to spend his time hanging out next to the draft from the door constantly opening and closing.
Nearer to the back, exactly what he needs finds him. Little wooden figurines line the shelves in this section, each hand-painted and appearing entirely unique from the others. All sorts of tiny people dressed stereotypically for various professions, a spread of statues representing a wide array of hobbies, and a couple shelves of every animal he can think of. Something in here has to be right for Ina, and he can guarantee no one else is going to get her the same one since there's only one each of the different designs.
There, nestled among all the others, he finds Keith's present instead. A hippo stares back at him, expression distinctly unimpressed and inexplicably painted a soft pink, unlike the natural colors of most of the animal figures.
It reminds him immediately of one of their first friendly conversations, after getting past their hostile start. He can't even remember what got them on the topic anymore, but the part that sticks with him is that Keith's favorite childhood toy had been a stuffed hippo. Going by Keith's word alone, he never would've known the finer details of it. Although he'd admitted to it, he hadn't been open to elaborating much.
Then, James had written it off as simply not wanting to trust James with more information that could be used to mock him, which… was fair at the time. They'd made up, but not much time had passed since.
Now, it hits him out of nowhere. That was the same stuffed hippo Keith had carried with him every day for a month straight back in elementary school, right after his dad died. Now, he's old enough to put it together… that was probably one of the last toys Keith ever got from his dad.
And James had made fun of him for it back then, relentlessly commenting on it until one day, Keith showed up without the hippo and never brought it in again.
Frowning, he pauses, contemplating this new hippo.
What if it brings back bad memories? Does Keith even remember any of that? There's a not insignificant amount of grade school that James recalls in perfect clarity and Keith doesn't remember at all when it comes up. Sometimes, James can describe every tiny detail of a day he knows they shared as kids, and Keith will listen to the whole thing like it's a fresh, new story he's never heard before.
Another shopper wanders closer to the shelf, and that's enough to make his decision for him. He snatches up the hippo before she can even think about looking at it. Keith will like it.
Ina's is harder. Nothing jumps out at him the way the hippo had, but time is ticking, and it'll be a risk to expect to find something for her in Kinkade's yeast store. In the end, after a little more hemming and hawing, he lands on the most obvious choice: a two-piece figure, one of a woman in an armchair leaning forward and clearly listening intently, and another a man on a chaise lounge with his mouth open mid-speech.
For anyone else, it would be a risk. They're pushing the middle of junior year, but that doesn't mean it's too late for a change of major. Ina won't, though. When she decides something, she's looked at it from every angle and knows it's her best choice. There are never any regrets, at least not ones she makes visible to James. She makes her decision, and she runs with it. Every time.
Ina will be a psychologist someday, and this will be a fun little reminder of what she's working toward.
And Keith will find the hippo cute, not a reminder of bad times.
James checks out, getting two separate gift bags for the purchases, knowing there's no chance he'll be sneaking off to wrap them after today.
That leaves the yeast, which he's decided is a good idea. Yeast is for baking, isn't it? So long as he's using it to bake, getting the same yeast twice is not going to be a downside. He'll be excited about it, baking nerd that he is.
Yeah. It's gotta be for baking, right? What else could he possibly want with yeast?
His final shop goes through without a hitch. The weather is still uncomfortable, but he survives the short trek to his destination. The yeast doesn't exactly scream gift, so there's no competition for it… it looks like not a single package has been bought since they walked through as a group hours ago. And he doesn't run into any of the group there either.
It's all going too perfectly, which is inexplicably anxiety inducing. Leave it to James to get anxious while having a great afternoon.
The little time he has left before three could probably be better spent elsewhere, but he finds himself at one of the bakeries they passed up in favor of the larger one they'd taken their break at. James doesn't begrudge them for it, even if he'd originally pointed out this one. Not everything he wants can happen, after all.
And besides, the other shop had big enough tables to seat the five of them. This one has a few with two to three chairs, and they're all bunched up together to make the most of the space. It feels a little claustrophobic, admittedly, but at the same time, that lends to the coziness of it. The babble of the other customers isn't so overwhelming with the reduced seating, either, and the air curtain keeps the chill out much better than most of the stores.
If it were any other year, he might buy a novel from nearby and sit here with a cup of coffee to read while waiting for the others to finish up. It's an unspoken rule, really, that none of them hang out in the shops where someone might buy a gift, not once they're done with their own shopping. This is the perfect place for burning some time in comfort.
Today, though, he doesn't have as much time to burn. It's enough to let him thaw out while waiting for his order, but not much more than that. He uses the break to consolidate his purchases into the biggest bag and gets a couple sips of his pumpkin spice latte before the time rolls around.
Double checking his bag to ensure none of the contents are visible, he braves the transition from warm to cold one last time, heading for the market center and ignoring the obvious sound of the popcorn shaking with each step.
Keith's already there, holding a few bags of his own.
"Hey," James greets. "Find anything good?"
Keith nods noncommittally.
"There's a lot here," he elaborates as vaguely as possible after a second.
"Yeah," James agrees. "It's hard to know where to start. That's why we like to do the group thing first, to scope things out."
Keith looks like he wants to say something, gets as far as opening his mouth in the shape of a word, but he aborts there.
"I got you gingerbread," James uses to fill the silence. "Not, like, as your gift… obviously. Just—here."
He thrusts the wrapped icingless cake from his pocket toward Keith, already mentally berating his own execution and calculating how to make up for it as soon as possible. He cannot afford to do anything else wrong today.
"Oh," Keith reacts, surprised. "Thanks."
Surprised, but certainly not put out. He's seen Keith put out, and this is not it. This is regular old content Keith. This is Keith not even noticing how awkward James is being. Keith's easy like that, usually rolling with whatever amount of puttogetheredness James has to offer on any given day.
Calm down.
The day is still his.
A couple minutes pass as Keith eats the cookie and James pretends to check his phone, knowing the others aren't actually going to have anything to say about the meet-up considering they all have the correct time for it.
"Hmm." James feigns seeing some such text anyway. "Sounds like the others aren't quite done yet. Would you want to walk around for a bit while we wait? Could keep ourselves warm."
"Sure," Keith agrees. "I wonder what's keeping them."
"Too many stores, too little time," James suggests a little too easily.
The slimy feeling that rushes over him at the action is almost sickening. It's the antithesis to what he wants for this day, visceral proof of him being able to lie to Keith the way he lies to the people he's not close with… like Keith's any other outsider that accepts only perfection from James. The realization of what he's done, of all the not-truths of this afternoon adding up, paralyzes him.
Keith grabs his hand.
"I didn't get a chance to see much over here," Keith tells him, tugging gently until James' body moves in reaction. "There wasn't enough time for this and…"
He trails off, and James finds his voice as he gains better footing on the snowy path.
"You get too busy finding gifts?" he asks.
"Little bit."
And this, James can find a home in. It's natural to step up as a leader or… or a mentor, maybe. Roles like that are all his family has ever pushed for him, and if nothing else, he's made sure he's good at them.
"You'll get used to it," James tells him. "Everyone is overwhelmed the first time. It's easier for most of us because we've done it so many times before. The secret is to already be thinking about what you're going to get while we're still all together… or even better, before we ever come out here. Then you can focus on your plan, get what you need, and still have time leftover to relax and enjoy the scenery."
"Guess we're doing that right now," Keith points out.
James chuckles.
"Yeah. Yeah, we are."
They did miss walking over here earlier, and for good reason. Everyone but Keith knows over here is more of a display area than a place to make purchases. What it lacks in stores, it more than makes up for with a variety of winter-themed scenes.
Three o'clock is a bit early for this, but there's no harm in it. Every year, it's the same. Finish up the shopping, make sure everyone's accounted for, grab some dinner, and once it gets dark, wander through this area in its fully lit-up glory.
But with Ina suggesting they come so early, they probably won't stay that late, not if the goal is for her to have time to get her studying done. A selfish part of James wants to put it to a vote, override her wishes since the rest of them want to be here to see the lights… but that inner voice sounds eerily similar to his father's. Disgustedly shoving the thought away, he contents himself with watching Keith's reaction to the first display, delighting in the quiet awe there.
"Hey! Fancy meeting you guys here!" Rizavi swiftly interrupts.
Immediately, James' hopes for the afternoon come crashing down, even more so once he catches the honest to God wink she's sending Keith's way.
"Hey, Rizavi," Keith returns easily, gaze moving from the reindeer scene to Rizavi and the abundance of bags she's toting with her.
"Little help?" she asks, not giving either of them a chance to answer before foisting a collection of her bags onto each of them. "Thanks, boys."
Keith glares at James' new bags like they kicked his dog. As quick as the look came on, though, he's shaking it back off and sinking into an emotionless stare that reminds James all too much of the way Keith had presented himself for most of middle and high school. It's not a face he'd ever wanted to see in Keith again, not since realizing he was the primary cause of it.
The worst part isn't even not knowing why Keith's suddenly upset with him. It's that he can't ask with Rizavi right here.
"The two of us were just checking out the lights," James tells Rizavi, begging her to read into it and understand that this was supposed to be him and Keith. Only him and Keith.
"Sweet, let's see 'em!"
So much for his last ounce of hope.
No, wait—
Rizavi sandwiches herself between the two of them as they start walking to the next display.
—there goes his last ounce of hope.
"Shame we're not staying late this year," Rizavi comments. "You should've been here last year, Kogane. It's cool now, but it's frickin' amazing once it gets dark."
"We've got two cars," James suddenly realizes aloud. "We could stay for the lights."
"Ehh… isn't it kind of a dick move to leave Leifsdottir all on her own?"
"To study?" James shoots back. "Sounds more like a win for her if we're out of her hair for a bit."
"She studies in the dining hall with us all the time," Keith points out. "I thought she liked the noise."
"Exactly!" Rizavi agrees. "I've noticed that too! She's always trying to hang out with me even though she knows I'm gonna yap the whole time. Sorry, not sorry—but I swear it makes her study better somehow."
The inferiority comes crashing in on James, a sudden, brutal reminder of growing up never doing anything right. Now he's wrong again.
"I just meant—" he tries, only to get interrupted before he can even attempt to smooth it over.
"I know," Rizavi reassures. "But I also know it would be a mistake to send her home alone. She'd hate that… Besides, we've got a whole week! We can always come back out here another night."
"You're right," James admits, taking the out rather than defending his position… rather than admitting he doesn't know Ina well enough to have noticed what Keith and Rizavi clearly did. Such a great friend he is. The figurine starts to weigh heavy on him, reminding him that he hadn't felt that genuine rightness while picking a gift for her.
Minor confrontation resolved, they continue wandering through the displays, but the mood is gone. Keith and Rizavi seem to easily pick up right where they left off before bringing up Ina, but James can't do the same. He trails alongside Rizavi, absentmindedly listening as she tries to explain to Keith what the displays looked like last year.
"Oh, hey!" Rizavi suddenly cuts herself off near the end of the display area. "Four o'clock. It's time to regroup!"
Luckily, Keith doesn't question the specificity of the time. The only way things could get worse right now would be if James had to back out of his earlier fudged truth and explain to Keith why Rizavi is citing four as the meet-up time.
James can't even be upset when Rizavi calls riding back with him and Keith. He can't be much of anything except numb. It's probably for the best that he won't be alone with Keith, saves him from the possibility of taking a risk and saying something stupid during the drive.
Instead, he gets to listen to Rizavi continue to chatter away with Keith. Gritting his teeth as Keith tries to respond in kind, James berates himself for being undeniably jealous of the easy flow of conversation between them. He should be happy that his crush gets along with his friends. It's a sure sign in favor of pursuing this, but somehow it feels like damnation instead.
If Keith gets along so well with Rizavi, is that just who he's grown to be as an adult? All this time, Keith's friendliness had come across as encouragement, particularly in comparison to how he remembered Keith acting with everyone in high school. Is James reading into what he was like back then when all that's changed is Keith's maturity? Is there anything between them at all?
They're the first to park at the cabin. Rizavi rushes inside, reportedly 'to turn the heat back up!' but it's a flimsy excuse.
Sure enough, she's locked in her room when James and Keith trail in after her. Probably hiding her presents from everyone. He didn't miss the way she's been carefully clinging onto two of her bags since meeting back up with them, and he can only assume those are for him and Keith.
You should be happy she likes him, he reminds himself… as long as she doesn't like him too much, that is.
In the time it takes James to squirrel away his own presents—much harder without having a bedroom, by the way—Kinkade and Ina arrive.
"We should bake cookies," Kinkade decides after everyone's had a moment to settle in.
"Yes!" Rizavi cheers.
"Not you!" James, Ina, and Kinkade all say at once.
"Aww, you guys are no fun…"
"I'm plenty fun," Kinkade rebukes. "I just don't need to light the kitchen on fire to have my fun."
"One time!"
"You heard the firefighter," Ina reminds her.
"'Keep her away from the stove,'" James quotes, "'forever.'"
Rizavi pouts but can't say much to dispute a direct word-for-word quote.
"I need to study," Ina excuses herself. "Have fun, Ryan."
Settling back in on the couch with her notebooks, she tunes all of them out. Probably easier with Rizavi going to sulk in the den in the wake of rejection.
"Do you want to make some cookies?" James invites Keith when he stays silent for too long. "You just have to promise not to burn the kitchen down, or a nice firefighter will come chew you out just like Rizavi."
He realizes too late that it's, perhaps, not the right thing to say to Keith of all people.
"Shit," he mutters. "I didn't mean—"
"Sure," Keith cuts in, looking far too nervous about it. "I'll make cookies."
"So will I," James adds, ignoring Kinkade's smirk and the 'whipped' he mouths from behind Keith's back.
In the kitchen, James can finally relax, faced with the clear proof of Kinkade warming up to Keith… or at least better tolerating him. There's none of the hostility James might've expected even yesterday. Kinkade must've taken their conversation this morning to heart, then.
"Alright," Kinkade prompts, "what are we making?"
He looks expectantly at Keith for the first choice.
"Uhh… cookies?" Keith answers.
Kinkade's eye twitches in response, and suddenly James is less sure that Kinkade is going to give him a fair chance.
"What kind of cookies?" he clarifies.
"I want sugar cookies," James jumps in to take the pressure off Keith when he still looks confused. "With frosting, I think. What about you, Kinkade?"
"I was going to go with a classic peanut butter cookie," Kinkade shares, beaming at the question, "and maybe another dozen depending on what ingredients we have here already… Anyway, Keith. What kind do you want?"
"Sugar cookies are fine," Keith answers.
"James already picked sugar cookies," Kinkade huffs. "Do we really want two dozen sugar cookies? Or do you want to pick the kind you think are good? We're not aiming for fine."
"Oh, uh… oatmeal raisin?" Keith finally lands on, asking more than telling. "I like oatmeal raisin."
"You would…"
"Oatmeal raisin sounds good," James encourages before Kinkade can more thoroughly denigrate the choice of flavor. "I think we have all the ingredients for those, don't we?"
There are a few more relaxed minutes of gathering ingredients, and then Kinkade jumps into full baking mode, calling out orders to the two of them while he mixes two batches of his own cookies.
"Don't take him too seriously," James finds himself murmuring into Keith's ear when he catches him looking far too stressed about it early on, obviously not used to the way normally-calm Kinkade turns into a somewhat controlling menace in the kitchen the way James is. "It's just cookies. You're doing fine."
He returns to his own mixing bowl after Keith nods in acknowledgment and focuses on dolloping twelve even chunks of dough onto his cookie sheet. Working around the tray, he flattens them out as evenly as he can and pointedly ignores Kinkade's snicker when he leans down to closely inspect the height deviation after his first round of flattening.
Not quite perfect, but from experience… trying to improve when he's this close will only result in making everything worse. He tries not to be bothered by the knowledge that a couple of them are a little taller than the rest. Tries.
Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, James steps back and relaxes after finally putting his tray into the oven and setting a timer on his phone. He takes the opportunity to watch Keith finish preparing his own tray, something squeezing at his heart when he sees the determined glare Keith is shooting his own handiwork.
Keith gets his own cookies onto an oven rack, and James freezes, mind blank now that he's faced with the possibility of picking up another conversation with Keith. He feels inadequate, realizing that everything that's happened to him lately has happened with Keith right next to him. There's nothing new he can share with him that he doesn't already know about, no interesting thread of conversation to start now.
As Kinkade slides his second tray into the oven, James' timer goes off. He finds an oven mitt and pulls the tray out to cool. Leaving the cookies where they are for the time being, James takes the opportunity to hunt down the cooling racks. Setting one aside for himself, he places the rest on the other side of the stove for Keith and Kinkade's batches. A gentle prod at one of his own cookies tells him they're not quite ready to transfer to the cooling rack.
By the time Keith's oatmeal raisin cookies and Kinkade's peanut butter cookies are coming out of the oven, James' are cool enough to transfer. He moves his baking sheet out of the way to clear room for the others and takes a minute to watch the other two work with their own treats.
As he turns back to his own rack, a final brilliant idea hits James, reminding him it's not yet too late to initiate this conversation with Keith. The day's not over yet. That decided, he picks up his Ziploc bag—which Kinkade has pre-fashioned into a makeshift frosting piper—and begins to squirt icing onto one of the cookies.
A large puddle pours out faster than he's expecting, wrecking his attempt at drawing a simple outline of a heart shape onto the cookie. Holding back a grunt of frustration to avoid attracting attention before the cookie is ready for Keith to see it, he instead goes back in to salvage the design, trying to fill in a solid heart shape instead.
The harder he tries to correct what he's already drizzled out onto the cookie, the worse it gets. Sighing, he calls the first one a total loss and moves onto the next blank one.
It happens again.
And again.
And again.
And before he can step back and notice how many cookies he's burning through, he's got a rack full of horribly iced desserts and no way to fix them. A fruitless moment of trying to find the most salvageable one leaves him with the unfortunate conclusion that not a single one could be considered salvageable. Sighing, he pushes the rack to the side where he at least doesn't have to take in a full visual of yet another failure for the day.
If he'd gotten any of this trip right, he and Keith could be upstairs making out right now.
…or Keith could be on an early flight back home, unable to stand spending another second with James after hearing his confession. Maybe it's for the best it didn't happen today. Maybe he needs to focus more effort on feeling Keith out, making sure he might be interested before he takes the final plunge and potentially destroys their friendship just like he just destroyed a dozen cookies.
"Whoa," Rizavi slinks in and remarks with a low whistle toward James' cookies. "Who drew the dicks on these ones?"
She stares pointedly at Keith.
"Why are you looking at me?" he huffs.
"No reason," she singsongs. "Except, you know, the other options are Griffin and Kinkade, and we all know these goody goodies would never."
"Actually," Kinkade jumps in, "Boy Scout Griffin did those all on his own."
Rizavi exaggerates a gasp.
"Griffin! Didn't know you had it in ya, but I'm loving this new streak."
Great. Possibly the only thing worse than having everyone think he's taken up badly drawing penises as a side hobby is admitting that they were supposed to be hearts. Rizavi would have a field day with that… a field day he's not ready to face after today's failure.
"Ha, yeah…" he says instead, defusing the situation.
He may not have done what he set out to do today, but things could be worse.
At least he gets to end the day eating desserts with his friends.