#meanwhile Seiji and Nicholas: we were just gripping each other's clothing in a... platonic way

[iffeelscouldkill]

Lost in a Familiar Place pt. 5

(Aka the ‘Nicholas never applied to Kings Row’ AU)

A/N: I'm kind of on a roll with this fic??? Idek how, but I've already written the next chapter. There'll be at least 2 more instalments after this, and possibly a small epilogue depending on how the last chapter plays out.

Anyway - when I originally wrote the concept for this fic, there were two things I imagined playing out differently: Nicholas would take a different path to Kings Row, and Aiden would have a wake-up call when it came to his participation in the team. We've spent a few chapters on the first one - now it's time for the second.

(But don't worry, we'll be coming back to Nicholas!)

Or: in which Harvard and Aiden have A Conversation, and Nicholas and Seiji are misinterpreted. (Or are they?)

Previous chapters: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

---

After fencing practice officially ended, the students hung around chattering in groups, dissecting the unexpected match that had taken place between Seiji Katayama and a complete fencing nobody.

Harvard was impressed that Nicholas had scored a point on Seiji at all. The holes in his technique were huge and evident, but there were times when he could strike at an opening before you even knew what was happening. Harvard had noticed Seiji watching him during drills; he knew that his teammate was turning the contradiction over in his mind, trying to make sense of it.

And Nicholas had beaten Aiden. That couldn’t just be put down to left-handedness and the element of surprise.

Harvard sought Aiden out in the middle of the throng of students. He was talking to two of the boys that Harvard thought of (a little uncharitably) as Aiden’s groupies; they grudgingly made way for Harvard, shooting him looks. “Hey. Good practice today.”

Aiden arched an eyebrow. He seemed back to his old self, more or less. “You don’t need to coddle me, Captain. I lost to a total rookie.”

Harvard shrugged. He could say, ‘Maybe you should come to practice more often, then,’ but this wasn’t how and where he wanted to have that conversation. “Do you want me to make you feel better about it?”

Aiden snorted and put his hands behind his head. The groupies drifted away, losing interest when Aiden’s attention wasn’t on them. “No, a night of drowning my sorrows in the nearest warm body and I’ll be back on form.”

Harvard normally shrugged off Aiden’s jokes about sleeping around, but this time it didn’t land quite right. Aiden noticed his expression and smiled wryly. “Ah, too soon.”

“Aiden-” Harvard began, but just then, Coach Williams called them both over. She threw Aiden a set of keys and handed Harvard a stack of orange field markers. Some poor sap had been made to run suicides that morning after he forgot his mask.

“Do me a favour, and run these back to the supply cupboard,” she instructed. “And this-” She handed Aiden the épée that Nicholas had borrowed for practice. “And if you see Nicholas, make sure he doesn’t accidentally walk off with those fencing whites he borrowed.”

That was a good point. Where was Nicholas? Harvard couldn’t remember seeing Seiji leave, either.

An awkward silence hung between them as they set off along the corridor. Harvard was suddenly sick of this. “Aiden, listen,” he said. “I’m not about to get on your case about sleeping around. It’s your choice, even if I wish you’d be less… harsh about it most of the time.”

Aiden acknowledged this with a wry twist of his lips. “But?” he prompted Harvard.

Harvard stopped in the corridor and turned to face Aiden. “But I need you to commit to one thing, at least, and that’s the team. You know as well as I do that one exceptional fencer doesn’t make a winning team, and we need everyone to be on form if we’re going to have a shot this year. I can’t just keep subbing in Eugene every time you don’t feel like showing. He’s a solid fencer, but you made the team, and you need to show up for it.”

Aiden put his free hand on his hip. “And what are you going to do if I don’t?” he asked Harvard, almost taunting. Harvard wasn’t often on the receiving end of his best friend’s cutting tongue, and he didn’t enjoy it. “Cut me from the team?”

Harvard swallowed, but he couldn’t say this if he wasn’t prepared to back it up. “Yes, if I have to.”

“Then you’ll be a fencer down.”

“I’m a fencer down anyway, Aiden!” Harvard exclaimed, gesticulating and forgetting that he was holding a set of field markers. “I never know if I can count on you or not! What’s the point of making the team if you don’t act like you’re a part of it? Why do you bother to try out if you’re just going to make a show of being too good for us?”

Aiden’s cheeks flushed, and Harvard wished he could walk back his outburst, but part of him felt lighter for getting it out into the open. It was everything he should have said last year, and hadn’t. They’d treated it as a bit of a joke, laughing about being the worst team, and Aiden had shown up for some matches, for the bake sale – even if he’d been on his phone the whole time.

But this year felt different. Harvard wanted to take things seriously, and it felt jarring how little Aiden did.

“You’d really do that to me?” Aiden asked him, his voice taut like steel wire. “Cut me out because I’m no good to you any more?”

Harvard exhaled. This was treading dangerously close to Aiden’s many complicated issues stemming from his family, something that Aiden would never, ever so much as hint at in front of anyone who wasn’t Harvard. But Aiden also wasn’t being fair.

“I’ve defended your spot on the team for a long time,” he said. “Because I know what you can do, and I’ve always believed you come through for us when it matters. But – it goes both ways, Aiden. How can I treat you like a member of the team when you don’t act like one?”

He kept his voice low, trying to stay calm and reasonable. “At this point, I can’t help wondering why you try out for the team in the first place. What are you doing this for, Aiden? Who is it for?”

Aiden gave Harvard a long, steady look, long enough that Harvard wondered if he was meant to be reading something into it. What was he missing?

“You remember when we both made the team for the first time, back in sophomore year?” Aiden said suddenly.

“Of course,” Harvard replied, a little surprised at the direction this was going. “The captain was Elias Ortiz, and he was so inspiring. I really looked up to him. I wanted to do what he did.”

Aiden nodded. “You wanted to be team captain one day,” he said, fondness in his voice. “And you persuaded me to try out with you.”

Harvard had forgotten that part. “You practiced with me all the time,” he said. “There was no reason you couldn’t make the cut too – and you did. You made the cut ahead of me, even.” Aiden had handily won enough matches to be accepted as one of the fencing team’s ‘main three’, while Harvard had endured the heart-in-mouth wait to find out who had been selected as reserve. Aiden had threatened – promised? – to give up his spot on the team if Harvard wasn’t selected. Harvard had assumed he was joking.

“You were a shoo-in for reserve,” Aiden said, waving a hand. “There was no question about it.”

Harvard wasn’t sure about that, but Aiden was biased on his behalf. “Still – where are you going with this?”

Aiden sighed, looking away and resting the point of the épée he was carrying against the ground. “Before we started practicing together, fencing was just this dumb thing that my dad made me do,” he said. “I would have quit years ago if not for that. But you loved it, and that made it not suck for the first time in ages.

“I tried out for the team because I knew how much it meant to you for us to both make the cut. And I like being good at things.” He shrugged and smirked diffidently, but Harvard could see more vulnerability in Aiden’s eyes than he’d shown in a long while.

“I like to win, but being in the fencing team together is our thing. That’s why I’m on the team.”

Harvard’s heart lurched. He would never in a million years have expected himself to be the reason that Aiden tried out for the team. Winning, sure – showing off, even – and schooling upstart fencing newcomers who thought they were hot stuff. But doing it all for him?

“But… why don’t you try properly, then?” he asked, because that part still didn’t make sense. If being on the team was important, then why act like it wasn’t?

Aiden’s eyes flicked over Harvard’s face and he smiled. It was a sad smile. “It doesn’t do to go getting too attached,” he said, barely loud enough for Harvard to hear him.

Then he turned and strode away down the corridor, calling back, “Coach is going to wonder where the hell we’ve got to.”

Harvard was left blinking at nothing, wondering what Aiden could possibly mean by – “Aiden? Hold on, what do you-”

He jogged to catch up with his best friend, but Aiden was already opening the door to the supply cupboard – throwing light onto two figures inside.

Nicholas and Seiji were standing nose-to-nose, Nicholas gripping the neck of Seiji’s uniform. Both boys looked flushed. Well, that explained where they’d both disappeared to, at least.

“Oh. Are we interrupting something?” Aiden asked, and Nicholas instantly let go of Seiji.

“No.” “No.” Both boys spoke in unison, Seiji turning away from Nicholas as if to reinforce his denial. Harvard raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, no judgement,” he said, and Aiden snorted as he walked past to put the épée away, then reached back for the field markers, which Harvard handed to him. “Just be aware that the supply cupboard does get some use around this time of day. In case you wanted to find another location.”

Nicholas turned even redder. “That’s not – it’s really not like that,” he said, rushed.

Harvard shrugged. “Like I said, no judgement. Oh, and Coach said to make sure you don’t forget to return your fencing whites.”

Nicholas looked down, apparently realising that he was still in his borrowed uniform. “Oh, yeah.”

Seiji nodded formally to Aiden and to Harvard. “Captain,” he said, and then strode out of the cupboard. Nicholas scrambled after him.

“Seiji!” he called after the other boy. “I meant what I said.”

Seiji paused, then looked back and gave Nicholas a nod before disappearing in the direction of the changing rooms.

Riiight. Harvard turned to Nicholas. “If you need someone to walk you out after you get changed, I can show you the way back into town.”

At that moment, Bobby and Eugene emerged from the door leading off to changing rooms, Bobby beaming as he caught sight of Nicholas. “Nicholas! We were looking for you!” he enthused. “Do you want to come and get smoothies with us?”

“Uh, sure,” Nicholas said, seeming surprised, but pleased.

“Oh – Harvard! And Aiden! Would you like to come too?” Bobby asked, as he spotted them both.

Harvard glanced at Aiden, then smiled at Bobby and shook his head. “Thanks, but we’re okay – you guys go ahead.”

“I just need to get changed and give these back to Coach–” Nicholas said, walking quickly towards the changing rooms. The three of them disappeared, and Harvard and Aiden were left alone again.

“Well,” Harvard said. “I guess that means Nicholas isn’t hung up on you, at least.” He was wearily accustomed to the pining looks thrown at Aiden in the corridors, the guys showing up at their dorm room door with flowers and heartfelt notes that Harvard always promised he’d pass onto Aiden (who was more often than not already out on another date). And, sometimes, the uglier responses – a graffitied locker, a malicious rumour, damage done to Aiden’s things while they were both out of the room. Aiden always forbade Harvard from going after anyone on his behalf, even if they could work out who’d done it. “It’s nothing, Harvard. I can handle it.”

Aiden snorted. “Nicholas stopped being hung up on me the second he laid eyes on Seiji Katayama.”

Harvard smiled as they both stepped out of the cupboard, Aiden pulling the doors closed and locking them. It was fun to gossip and trade theories about their fellow fencers, something they’d indulged in at many a practice match and regional or state competition (when Aiden was present, of course). But Harvard quickly remembered the conversation they’d been having before they happened on Nicholas and Seiji.

“Aiden?” he asked. “What did you mean when you said, ‘It doesn’t do to get too attached’?”

“Nothing,” Aiden said quickly, flashing Harvard a quick and (to Harvard’s expert eyes) insincere smile. “Forget I said that.” He tried to start back towards the fencing salle.

“No, come on-” Harvard objected, catching hold of Aiden’s arm – gently. “I know you meant something by it. Whatever it is, you can tell me.” He frowned, suddenly worried about what Aiden might not want to say. “You can trust me.”

Aiden gave Harvard that rueful smile again. “I think it’ll be better if you figure it out yourself. But if you haven’t figured it out by tonight, then I’ll tell you,” he said, then slipped his arm out of Harvard’s grip and walked away.