Call Me Yours [BL]

Chapter 10 Part 2

Prince's class is dismissed after a grueling two hours.

He's tired and hungry and doesn't want to think about the shift he'll inevitably have to go into later. There's that constant suppressed anxiety of needing to complete something. Homework. He has four assignments due. Five, if you count the one he turned in last week that received a resounding 84%. His professor pointed out his flaws one after the other, hurtfully detailed but helpful, and gave him the option to redo it by the end of the week.

Prince will lose his mind if he has to write another lesson plan right now, so he puts it aside for later.

"I'm here," Ardyn sighs with the dramatics Prince is so used to and dumps himself on the bench beside him. Their bench—their spot. "And f*****g starving. Pizza?"

"If you promise not to eat off the table again."

"Blow me," Ardyn mumbles, too distracted tapping away at his phone to give Prince a proper insult. A smile threatens his lips, but it's not for Prince. It grows as he reads his message and then turns into something so similar to a giggle when he shoots a text back.

Prince could gag.

But he's not six, so he stretches his legs out and waits. He does that a lot with Ardyn.

He misses the times when they shared classes. When they were forced to stay up together working on the same project, turning in half-assed work at 3 in the morning because at least we'll get the same grade. And there was solidarity in that, knowing you weren't doing the worst. At least, not on your own.

It feels like a fever dream when Prince thinks about it. It leaves a weird feeling of nostalgia in his stomach that he isn't sure is pleasant. They were roommates before they were anything else. First years who knew nothing of each other and nothing of college.

Hey, he remembers Ardyn saying, an abrupt grin on his face. They were comparing schedules. We're in the same anthropology class.

Prince didn't know what anthropology was. His advisor recommended it and it seemed the easiest out of all the requirements he could choose from. And it was easy. Prince came out of that class knowing little more than he did going in despite ending the semester with an A, but he came out with countless memories of him and Ardyn cramming nights before an exam, the study sessions that turned into movie marathons, and two hours of sleep.

Holism, Prince recalls. He hears his anthropology professor in his head.

Holism and Ardyn.

That was his takeaway from freshman year.

They roomed together again the next year, by choice that time. Prince branched off into starting his elementary education classes and Ardyn's nose was often stuck in all his psychology books, but they always came together at the end of the day. Prince and Ardyn.

You're always waiting for me, Ardyn laughed one day. He was flushed in the face and slightly out of breath from rushing to get there. Ardyn's class always ran later than his. Something about the brain needing more class time than Prince's lessons on how to promote productivity in kindergarteners.

Prince couldn't look away from his hair. Messy and shaped from the harsh wind that whipped against them. Prince was afraid he'd blow away.

He didn't. Ardyn sat beside him at their usual spot where they met up. The bench outside the student union.

I don't mind, Prince said.

He thinks he said. He can't remember.

It's what he would say now.

Prince goes on his phone because Ardyn's on his. Then he feels stupid for it. He's in his notes app, mindlessly scrolling through forgotten reminders and random numbers he has no memory of writing. He cringes when he passes a particularly depressing paragraph. A night when he felt alone and got a little too vulnerable with himself.

He slides his phone in his pocket, the note forgotten.

Ardyn's still clicking away on his. The smile on his face is familiar, subdued in ways that told he wasn't aware he was smiling himself.

Prince stares from the corner of his eye.

Ardyn bites his lip when the smile becomes unmanageable. There's a text waiting for him, Prince sees it, but Ardyn pockets his phone and glances at Prince. This smile is meant for Prince. Prince and Prince alone. "You ready?"

They bump shoulders as they walk to the parking lot. Ardyn can't walk in a straight line to save his life and Prince refuses to move over for him. They bump shoulders and Prince bites his tongue. Ardyn smells like rain.

"Michelle was asking about you again," Ardyn says. He glances at Prince again, a suggestive and teasing glint in his eyes that Prince rolls his eyes at. "I keep telling her! She seems convinced she can change your mind."

"Tell her I have a partner. Boyfriend—girlfriend. Doesn't matter."

"You're not dating anybody."

Obviously, Prince thinks. "I'm not interested but I don't wanna hurt her feelings." He adds, "And she keeps bothering you with it."

Ardyn makes a noise of consideration. He's curious when he asks, "What's your type? I've never seen you seriously date anybody." His phone chimes in his pocket once, twice. He ignores it in favor of watching Prince.

Prince almost expects him to check it, to blow off this sudden topic and dive into his newest infatuation with married men. But Prince knows Ardyn. He's seen Ardyn infatuated and blushing over men who wouldn't give him a second glance. He's had the absolute displeasure of watching men go above and beyond to get Ardyn's attention, and even when those feelings were reciprocated, Ardyn always made time for Prince.

It's a victory he hates rejoicing in.

It's childish and the realization strangles his thoughts. He picked me—

"I don't have a type," Prince answers.

"Everyone has a type."

Prince doesn't think of black hair and dark eyes. A petite frame, he could say, but it wouldn't be the truth. He doesn't have a type, he realizes. It's not the reflexive answer he originally gave Ardyn, now just a simple truth that sits in his throat. Hybrid threatens his lips. There's solidarity in it, a familiarity that he thinks is closest to the truth.

"Fuckin—I don't know. Someone I can be friends with, even when we're dating," Prince says. He sniffs. "I guess."

It's jarring almost. That he doesn't know.

"I think that's normal?" A fond smile. "Is there anything specific? Like— height?"

Ardyn's searching for his car in the parking lot when Prince glances at him. "Not really. If I had to pick, I like someone with a nice smile."

"What?" Ardyn laughs, and it sounds so bright to Prince. "You seem so easy to please."

Prince thinks so too.

Like they often did, Prince's eyes stray back to Ardyn. He thinks about their dorm days. How quickly they grew attached to each other. Prince and Ardyn, never one without the other. "What about you?" Prince dares asks. He likes his memories of Ardyn more, those nights they stayed up till morning together, the day they got an apartment together. Not— Not Prince crashing at their friend's place when Ardyn had someone over.

A stranger. A man taller and wider than Prince. Someone with dark hair and tan skin.

"No specific type." Ardyn fishes for his keys. "Just someone who likes me. Or— probably someone tall, or just taller than me."

"Tall, huh?" Prince muses.

They reach Ardyn's car together.

Ardyn abruptly stops as Prince is reaching for the passenger door handle. He's laughing. "Have you gotten shorter?"

Prince bristles. "Huh? Are you blind?"

Ardyn smiles innocently. "You seem shorter."

"You're standing on the f*****g curb— what?"

Ardyn giggles and rounds the car to the driver's side. "It's okay to be short, Prince. You're still pretty."

"We're the same height!"

They bicker as Ardyn peels out of the parking lot. He's insistent with Prince, teasing and prodding with a laugh that Prince likes so much that he continues pretending to be offended.

Taller, huh. Prince looks out the window and as shitty as he feels, laughs when Ardyn makes an illegal U-turn and runs over the curb. "f**k— I swear that wasn't there before."

"You're such a s**t driver."

"Do you wanna drive then?"

"No, no. Keep running over curbs, I'll be quiet."