Is a "sword" a euphuism? (BL)

"So, are you ready for your first Valentine's date, Will?" Dustin asked, idly splashing water with his palm. A teasing grin spread across his face.

Will rolled his eyes but didn't bother answering. Instead, he dunked his head under the water, letting the warm currents swirl around his sore shoulders.

The four of them—Will, Mike, Dustin, and Lukas—were relaxing in one of the shallow pools after a vigorous swim. The Hydro Relaxation Chamber was designed for moments like this. Beyond the long, straight exercise pool where they had just finished their laps, this area was a haven for recovery. The water here was warmer, with artificial currents that streamed gently around aching muscles.

"It's not a big deal," Will said finally, taking a deep breath. The air smelled fresh, with a faint flowery undertone. Vines and moss covered parts of the walls, carefully arranged to give the space a natural, earthy feel. A few delicate flowers grew near the seating areas, their soft colors brightening the otherwise metallic chamber.

Will glanced up at the light streaming through the ceiling. It looked exactly like sunlight—warm, golden, and slightly diffused, as if filtered through leaves. He could almost believe they were outdoors, not buried underground in what had once been a salt mine. The lighting was impressive, he had to admit, though the mechanics of it didn't interest him much. That was more Dustin or Zach's thing.

"I asked Zach out back in December," Will added after a pause. "It's February now. We've had dates. More than one, actually."

"Valentine's Day is special," Lukas said, smirking as he stretched out like a cat in the artificial sunlight. "You better not screw this up, Will. It's, like, romance Christmas or something."

"Wow, Max got you whipped, man," Dustin chimed in, flicking a splash of water at Lukas. "Does she use an actual whip? Do you like it rough, Lukas?"

"You're one to talk, Dustin," Lukas shot back, splashing him in return. "You're the one who's going to be stuck in quarantine for days after visiting Suzie in Salt Lake City."

Will half-listened to their exchange, his mind drifting back to the Enriched Centre. Built by Aperture Science, it was the first and only ecological facility of its kind—a self-contained, experimental community sealed off from the outside world. The closed environment meant that anyone entering from the outside had to quarantine for a few days to avoid introducing anything harmful to the ecosystem.

Will had learned all about the Centre in school—it had even been the focus of an entire class. The concept of living here fascinated some people, especially the visitors, but to him, it was just home. It wasn't like Hawkins. The air here was always pure, recycled and scrubbed clean. The sunlight wasn't real, but it felt close enough. He couldn't even remember the last time he saw the actual sky. The idea of traveling outside felt... pointless.

"It's not like I'm breaking any rules," Dustin was saying. "I already booked my spot in the quarantine dorm when I get back. Suzie's got this whole day planned—it's gonna be worth it."

"Wow. That's dedication," Lukas said, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back into the water.

Dustin shrugged, grinning. "It's Suzie. She's worth it."

Lukas smirked. "Whipped." He flicked a splash of water at Dustin, but his grin widened when it hit him square in the chest. "You're so whipped, man. Admit it!"

"Oh, I'm whipped? Says the guy who practically bows every time Max walks into the room!" Dustin shot back, sending a wave of water straight at Lukas's face.

Lukas spluttered, wiping the water from his eyes. "Hey! At least I'm not the one willing to sit in isolation for a week just to get a couple of hours with her."

Dustin laughed, flicking more water in retaliation. "That's called effort, Lukas. Something you might wanna try sometime."

"Oh, it is ON," Lukas said, scooping up a double-handed wave of water and launching it toward Dustin with full force.

The splash hit Dustin head-on, and he let out an exaggerated yelp. "You're gonna regret that!" he yelled, lunging forward and creating a tidal wave of his own.

Will stayed quiet, watching the sunlight glint off the water as the two of them escalated into a full-blown splash war. Quarantine sounded like such a hassle to him, but Dustin didn't seem to mind. Maybe that was what love looked like—a willingness to deal with inconveniences just to spend time with someone.

Will wondered if Zach would do something like that for him.

No. He already knew the answer to that. Zach would do something like that. The real question was whether Will would do the same for Zach.

When Will had finally made the decision to take what was offered, he hadn't waited for Zach to ask again.

The joy on Zach's face when he did had made Will feel even more like a fraud. What if he just didn't feel it the same way? What if it was just...

He couldn't finish the thought. It was easier not to.

Leaving Lukas and Dustin to their fun, Will turned to the last member of their party. "You've been quiet, Mike."

Mike didn't look at him right away. He leaned back against the edge of the pool, his arms resting on the ledge, staring at the water in front of him.

Finally, he said, "Because you won't like what I have to say."

Will frowned slightly, watching Mike's face for any hint of what was coming. Things between them were... better now. Better than they had been, at least.

The shift had started in September, not long after everything happened. El had made her stance clear from the very beginning—Will had done the right thing, and Mike had no reason to be angry. She'd told him outright to move on, that it wasn't his choice to hold onto the anger, but Mike had kept it to himself. He didn't glare at Will openly or yell at him anymore, but his frustration simmered under the surface, just loud enough for Will to feel it.

That was the thing about being psychic. People didn't have to say things out loud for you to know.

By December, El had finally had enough. She'd pushed Mike to let go of his anger once and for all, to stop treating Will like some unspoken source of tension. "I don't want to be the reason you lose him," she'd told Mike, her voice sharper than usual, carrying the weight of her resolve. And Mike, always loyal to El, had listened.

After that, things started to change. Slowly, yes, but they did. Mike stopped bristling when Will entered the room. He stopped tensing every time Will spoke. He even started laughing at Will's jokes again—or at least, smiling faintly at them.

It should have been a relief.

But sometimes, Will missed it—the condemnation, the sharp edge of Mike's anger. When Mike had looked at him like that, it had felt like a punishment. Like a confirmation of what Will already believed about himself. That he deserved it.

Now, with Mike's anger gone, all that was left was the hollow ache of guilt.

"He's too young for you," Mike said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Will blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

Mike turned to face him, his dark eyes steady and serious. "Zach," he said flatly. "He's too young for you."

"Two years isn't that much," Will defended, his voice steady but tight.

"Two and a half," Mike corrected, his tone sharp. "And enough that if you do anything after March, you could end up in jail."

Will flinched at the bluntness but didn't back down. "I'm not going to do anything," he said firmly. "I plan to wait until Zach turns eighteen."

Mike raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Nice conviction. How long do you think that's going to last?"

Will narrowed his eyes. "As long as it takes."

Mike leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees as he stared at Will. His voice dropped, serious now. "And even then, think about it, Will. We're going to college soon. You're really planning to drag a high school boyfriend into that? What do you think is going to happen? That it'll all magically work out?"

Will's jaw tightened. "I don't care about what might happen, Mike. I care about what's happening now. Zach and I—" He hesitated, his voice faltering for a moment. "Zach and I are happy. That's what matters."

"Are you? Are you really?" Mike pressed, his voice sharper now. "You shouldn't let what your brother did guilt you into making rash decisions."

"Did with your sister," Lukas shot back immediately, his voice low but cutting.

Mike stiffened, his head snapping toward Lukas.

"And she was dating Steve," Dustin added, harsher than Lukas, the words landing like a blow.

"If Will is supposed to be Jonathan in this scenario, who would Nancy be?" Lukas said, his tone less harsh now, shifting to teasing. "El?"

"El's a girl," Dustin cut in, smirking. "Not Will's type."

"It could only be Mike," Lukas said, grinning as he tagged back to Dustin.

Dustin snorted. "Like sister, like brother. A boyfriend and girlfriend? Ambitious, Mike."

Mike's face was turning red, his emotions swirling so intensely that Will could practically feel them buzzing against his skin. Embarrassment. Anger. Humiliation. They mixed and clashed inside Mike like a swarm of angry bees, chaotic and sharp.

Will flinched. Since the incident, his powers had grown significantly—his connection to others stronger, more visceral. Sometimes it felt like he couldn't just sense emotions; he absorbed them. Damien had explained it once, in his calm, detached way: "A matter of sacrifice. For the one who wields the knife, and the one who lies beneath it. Power grows from what you give up."

Will hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. The sacrifice hadn't just been El's—it had been his, too. He had wielded the knife, and now the weight of what it had cost clung to him like a shadow. The power he'd gained wasn't a gift. It was a constant reminder.

"Enough," Will said sharply, his voice cutting through Lukas and Dustin's teasing like a blade.

The laughter stopped.

Both Lukas and Dustin froze, their grins slipping as they looked at Will in surprise.

"You're going too far," Will said, his voice quieter now, but no less firm. His gaze flicked to Mike, who was sitting rigid in the water, his jaw tight and his fists clenched. The buzzing of his emotions was still there, sharp and unrelenting, but at least now it wasn't growing worse.

But even as the tension eased slightly, Will couldn't shake the sting of Mike's words.

You shouldn't let what your brother did guilt you into making rash decisions.

Because Mike wasn't wrong. Not completely.

Will's chest tightened, his gaze dropping to the shimmering water. He wasn't sure what he felt about Zach—not entirely. Did he like him enough? Maybe. Maybe not. But wasn't dating about figuring that out?

He exhaled, pushing those thoughts aside and forcing himself to lighten the mood. "Now," Will said, his tone shifting as he glanced back up at the group, "can you jokers actually be of some help?" He smirked slightly. "And no girly stuff. Zach's not a girl."

"Then shouldn't you be asking one of the girls—Max or El?" Lukas shot back with a teasing grin.

Being the only one in the group with a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend did sometimes make things a bit awkward for Will. Not bad awkward—just different. But they rarely let it feel like an issue, and moments like this reminded him that he could still keep up.

Will arched an eyebrow, leaning back against the edge of the pool. "I'm not a girl either," he said, spreading his legs in the water with exaggerated nonchalance. Like everything else in the Hydro Relaxation Chamber, he was nude. "Or do you need to check?"

Dustin let out a loud snort, splashing water in Will's direction. "Oh my God, Will! Spare us!"

Lukas shook his head, chuckling. "Okay, okay, fair point. You're definitely not a girl. No need for proof."

Even Mike cracked a faint smile, though his arms were still crossed. "You're ridiculous," he muttered, but the tension that had been building in his shoulders seemed to ease. After a moment, he added, "What does Zach like?"

That was one of the things Will really admired about Mike. Even when he disapproved—even when he thought Will was making the wrong decision—he was still willing to help.

It was part of why Will often drew Mike as a paladin in his sketches. Mike had always been that way: loyal, stubborn, and fiercely protective, even when it meant standing in the way of something he didn't agree with. Paladins weren't perfect—sometimes their sense of duty blinded them—but that just made the role fit Mike even more.

"Computers, tech, hacking," Will replied, listing things off the top of his head.

"Not really Valentine's material," Lukas said, raising an eyebrow. "Not even Dustin and Suzie would use that for a Valentine's date."

"Hey," Dustin said, frowning. "Don't use us as an example. But really, Will, you need something more… fitting."

Will paused, thinking for a moment. "He likes morbid stuff. Real morbid."

"Then you're well-suited," Mike said dryly, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Wait," Lukas cut in, his eyes widening slightly. "Do you mean, like, giving him a bleeding heart for Valentine's?"

Will perked up, a small smile spreading across his face. That would work.

"Now, now," Dustin chimed in, grinning. "You can't go around cutting people's hearts out. Not just for a date."

Will rolled his eyes. "I wasn't going to actually cut anything. I was going to draw it. Make it into a personalized card or something." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Maybe even look into Saint Valentine. He's a saint, and saints usually come to bad ends."

Lukas let out a low whistle. "Morbid and educational. Zach's gonna love it."

The conversation shifted to other topics—a new issue of their favourite comic.

"I don't mind the monster-of-the-week episodes," Dustin said, "but I'd rather they move the plot along."

"It's called building tension," Lukas replied. "Not every issue needs a twist."

They moved on to plans for their next game night. Gary Gygax's new system, Dangerous Journeys, had just been released by Aperture Publishing, and the group couldn't wait to try it.

"So we're set for tomorrow?" Mike asked, slipping into his role as their game master. He used to be their dungeon master back when they only played Dungeons & Dragons, but as the group expanded their repertoire, so had Mike's skills. "I've got something special planned. You're not ready."

They didn't speak of heavier topics now—not their plans for college, at least. Naturally, they all imagined going to Aperture University together, but the question of majors was another matter entirely.

Mike had laid out plans that would keep them together, even after graduation. With El and Will being psychically gifted, Mike envisioned them as the heart of a superhero team—like the one El's mom was in. El and Will as the actual superheroes, while Mike would act as the team's manager.

Mike had chosen his own future accordingly, planning to major in business, with minors in criminology and political science. It fit him perfectly, and Will couldn't deny it made sense. Mike had always been the planner, the strategist—the one who kept them focused and moving forward.

But Mike wasn't just planning for himself. He was actively trying to convince Dustin to apply for the Psionic Science program.

"You'd be the team scientist," Mike had said, more than once. "The brains of the operation. Someone has to make sense of everything, and you're the best person for it."

Dustin wasn't exactly against the idea—psionics were new and fascinating, after all—but he wasn't sure he wanted to dedicate his whole life to the field. He loved science, but he loved all science. Physics, biology, engineering—there were too many options, and Dustin found them all equally exciting. And besides, he wasn't sure if he wanted to be out in the field or stuck in a lab.

Lucas, meanwhile, was laser-focused on basketball. He planned to take courses that would help him go pro, and if that didn't work out, he'd fall back on coaching or personal training. Mike was surprisingly supportive of this, arguing that even superheroes needed someone to keep them in shape.

Max had no intention of being part of any superhero team but humored Mike by saying she'd handle PR. Suzie, if asked, could easily slot in as their tech support.

But not everyone was onboard with Mike's grand vision. Lucas hated feeling like his dream of being a professional basketball player was just a footnote in someone else's plan. Max didn't like the idea of anyone dictating her career path at seventeen. Even Dustin, despite Mike's constant nudges, wasn't entirely sold on devoting himself to psionics.

These talks often ended in arguments, and the day was far too nice for that.

They also didn't touch on the ongoing mess between Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve. Almost half a year later, it was still a disaster. Nancy and Steve had technically broken up, but also… not. At the same time, Nancy and Jonathan were something.

The unkind thought—one none of them dared voice in front of Mike—was that Nancy seemed to enjoy having two boyfriends and didn't want to choose. Jonathan, who could never say no to her, went along with it, even when he should've walked away. And Steve, oddly, still loved her and wasn't even angry at Jonathan.

But no one brought up Nancy around Mike. And definitely no one dared call her a "slut," unless they were prepared to get punched.

Not Will. He loved his brother and would defend him against anything, but Jonathan's choices? Those he couldn't defend. Not even to himself.

There was one definite advantage to swimming nude: no wet swimsuit to deal with afterward. And since the Hydro Relaxation Chamber had an air-drying chamber at the exit—which Will found fun, even if it sometimes led to embarrassing, unwanted erections—there wasn't even a need for wet towels.

After dressing, they split up, with Will heading home.

On the way, his thoughts wandered. He was eager to learn more about Saint Valentine.

Will used to live in a house in Hawkins, just out of town. Back then, he'd even had a small wooden fort—Castle Byers—that Jonathan had built for him when they were kids. His brother had always been thoughtful like that.

But Will didn't really miss it.

The space in the Enrichment Centre was more limited, so they lived in what Will jokingly called "a hole," though as Tolkien had said in The Hobbit, it was "a very nice hole."

The apartment was shared between him, his mother, Joyce, and his brother, Jonathan. Although, to be fair, Jonathan had mostly moved into the dorms at the university, which wasn't far away—it was just on another level of the arcology.

He turned on his computer. Well, technically, it was the family computer, but Will was the one who used it the most.

His mom had said that using one for work was more than enough for her, and Jonathan preferred the computers in the university's lab. They were available to all students and had better image-editing software for his photography anyway.

It was one of the newest Aperture PC models, a generation ahead of anything else on the market—or so Zach said. Will just knew how to use it. For all he cared, there could be tiny people working inside the box.

It wasn't that Will's family was rich. The only reason they had access to cutting-edge tech was because his mom worked for Aperture, and living in the Enrichment Centre came with perks. They got advanced stuff even before it hit the market. Sure, it was technically "testing," which sometimes meant buggy software or filling out surveys, but the discount prices made it all worth it.

Will made a gesture toward the sword-in-stone icon representing S.W.O.R.D. The motion was smooth, something he'd done so many times that he barely thought about it anymore. Still, to his imagination, it felt a little like casting a spell.

Back in Hawkins, the computers he'd seen had been clunky and boring—just text on black screens. Aperture's computers, by comparison, were like something out of a movie. They had pictures instead of just text, and the graphics were so realistic they felt like looking through a window into another world.

It was neat, sure, but Will didn't really understand why Zach was always raving about how revolutionary it was. For Will, this was just how computers worked now. The fact that Aperture was years—maybe decades—ahead of everyone else didn't really register for him.

Zach had once tried explaining how Apple computers—the only brand that could rival Aperture's—used something called a "mouse" to navigate the screen. Will still didn't really get it. Zach had said it was a tool, but Will had pictured a robot mouse, skittering around on the desk to push icons around.

For a brief moment, he wondered how anyone would train a robot mouse to use a computer. Did it have tiny wheels? A camera to see? But the thought quickly passed.

Why anyone would bother with something like that when gestures worked perfectly fine was beyond him.

Before diving into his research on Saint Valentine, Will checked his emails.

There was a reminder about homework and some reading suggestions from school. Will had already finished his homework before swimming, but he copied the book links into his reader anyway. Like everything else in the Enrichment Centre, school was experimental—personalized education, tailored to each student. It meant that the books assigned to him were things he actually enjoyed reading, which made studying a lot easier.

Next, he noticed a notification from the Aperture Social Network. Zach had helped him set up a virtual gallery there, and another one of his pictures had been bought. He'd need to send the physical artwork to the nearest shipping center.

Ever since S.W.O.R.D. expanded its testing in the Enrichment Centre last September, Will had been getting more and more commissions. His work was gaining attention, and he liked the feeling of being able to earn his own money.

He could spend some of it—Mom allowed that—but she insisted that the rest go into a savings account for the future. Will didn't like it. He didn't want to blow all the money, but he'd hoped to contribute to the family. He was making money now—he should be helping pay for household expenses.

But Mom was adamant. "I take care of the family, Will. That's my job. Your job is to focus on school and doing what you love."

Even if he didn't agree, he knew better than to argue. Joyce Byers had her stubborn streak, and when she made up her mind, that was the end of the discussion.

Finally, Will moved to the heart of the matter: the main part of S.W.O.R.D.—what Zach called a "search engine."

Will still didn't get why it was called that. Searching made sense, since it found things, but what did engines have to do with it? Were cars involved somehow?

Shaking off the thought, he typed in "Saint Valentine" and hit enter. A few links popped up, and he clicked on one that led to Aperturepedia—a free electronic encyclopedia Aperture was building.

What he found was disappointing.

Saint Valentine had died by being clubbed and beheaded. That was it. Such a simple, brutal death. Will had expected something a bit more… exotic from a martyr. He imagined something dramatic—like being thrown to lions or burned at the stake.

Still, he could work with the idea of a bleeding heart. Only, instead of making Zach a card, he could create a whole painting. He could metaphorically offer Zach a heart.

Before he got started, though, Will decided to send a quick message. There was someone he knew who could help—an older boy with a boyfriend: Damien.

Then, he moved to start the painting.

Watercolors were Will's favorite medium, though he sometimes wondered if that was because they suited him best or because of the brush the Director had given him. How long had it been? Almost half a decade. Almost a third of his life.

To the naked eye, the brush was elegant—a work of art in itself, more like something meant for display than for making art. But when Will looked at it with his psychic senses, it was transcendent. As his powers grew, so too did the details he could see in the brush: the fine indentations in the handle, the ethereal glow bound within its form. The more he grew, the more glorious it became.

Painting with it was so much easier than anything else. It was almost as though the brush was guiding him, its presence opening his mind and instincts, showing him paths he didn't know he could take.

Sometimes, he would almost call it his precious.

But it wasn't sinister. It wasn't fair but foul.

It was pure.

And purity was something that uplifted. It was something beautiful, something exhilarating—and, if Will was being honest, something almost addictive.

Everyone longed to be their best self.

That was what the brush gave him. Not just the ability to paint, but the ability to reach into himself, to see what he could become, to pour that vision out onto the page. With it, he wasn't just painting. He was transcending.

Stroke here, stroke there, and slowly the bleeding began to emerge from the white canvas.

He didn't expect to finish it all at once. This would be a work of a few days, maybe more.

Although Will loved painting, he'd learned not to obsess over a single piece. Art, like anything else, needed balance. It was something he'd learned in school—how taking time to step back, to find inspiration from life, could make all the difference.

It worked. When he let his mind breathe, the ideas came more easily. The strokes felt more alive. He'd found that balance mattered, not just in art but in everything.

By the time he was finished for the day, there was a reply from Damien.

The message was short and to the point: a time and place for tomorrow, after school. No explanation, no discussion—just the details. Will hadn't expected anything different.

The meeting spot was a bit out of the way, but there wasn't really a "bad" part of the Enrichment Centre. No slums, no unsafe streets, just the occasional industrial zone, which this wasn't. It was tucked away in a quieter corridor, near a storage area.

It felt a little inconvenient, but Damien's tone made it clear: take it or leave it.

The next day after school, Will gave his friends an excuse and made his way to meet Damien.

This part of the Enrichment Centre wasn't as different as he had expected. Will had almost imagined something more utilitarian—bare metal walls instead of greenery—but it was still similar enough to the rest of the facility. There were fewer people, though, and the conveyor belts were much larger, carrying massive crates instead of the smaller loads he was used to seeing.

The security staff here was different. Not unfriendly, but busy. Focused. They barely paid attention to him as he passed, their movements quick and purposeful. Instead, it was the Sentry Turrets that seemed to notice him—cyclopean red eyes tracking his every step. Their unblinking stares made Will feel like they knew he didn't belong here.

Eventually, he found the right spot—a quiet area next to a set of large panes overgrown with vines. Damien was there, crouched close to the ground, examining something intently.

As Will approached, Damien straightened and turned, as though he'd sensed him coming. In his hand, he held an object that immediately grabbed Will's attention.

It looked like something out of a wizard's workshop—if that wizard shopped at Tiffany's. The rod was sleek but strange, covered in gemstones and intricate script that Will couldn't quite decipher. It had the aura of something crafted by a mad alchemist: a blend of science and magic that felt like it didn't quite belong in either world.

Damien's lips twisted into a smirk—half welcoming, half mocking, and, somehow, half... something else. Yes, that was one half too many, but Will couldn't quite place the feeling. It was hot, though. But Damien had a boyfriend, so that thought didn't matter.

"So," Damien said, his tone casual, almost bored, "what do you want?"

He didn't bother with pleasantries or small talk, his interest in the meeting clearly limited.

Will was supposed to get straight to the point, but his mouth went dry the moment he opened it. Now that it came down to it, the whole thing felt... a bit embarrassing.

Instead, he blurted, "Good day to you, Damien."

Damien arched an eyebrow, his smirk twisting further. "And what am I supposed to say to that? Ask if you're stating the day is good, or wishing me a good day?" His tone was dry, laced with mocking amusement. "I'm not that kind of wizard."

Will flushed, but before he could recover, Damien waved a dismissive hand. "Well, while you're busy gathering your wits—or courage—I've got work to do."

With that, Damien turned away and crouched back down near the panel. He pulled aside a cluster of vines, revealing a gemstone embedded in the wall. It shimmered faintly, catching the light in a way that didn't feel entirely natural.

Will watched as Damien tapped the gemstone with his rod-like tool. The object seemed part wand, part tuning fork, and it let out a clear, crystalline chime when it struck the gemstone. The sound was sharp, precise—almost like it was tuning more than just the panel in front of them.

"I didn't know there were gemstones in the wall panels," Will said, his earlier awkwardness almost forgotten, pushed back by curiosity.

"Not in every one," Damien replied without looking up. "And they're subtle. Most people wouldn't notice."

"Strange for decoration," Will said, stepping closer. His curiosity was getting the better of him, and almost without thinking, he began to shift his focus—not just looking, but sensing.

"Don't."

Damien's voice cut through the air like a whip. Will froze.

"Have you not learned that lesson yet?" Damien continued, his tone sharp but with a note of exasperation. "You're going to trigger the security procedures." He sighed heavily, rubbing his temple with his free hand. "They're not decorations, and what they are is not for you to know."

Damien straightened up, brushing off his hands as he turned back to Will. "I thought about letting you tag along until you were ready, but I've changed my mind. Showing you where more of the gemstones are is just asking for trouble."

His gaze hardened, and he added, "And don't even think about going looking for them with your little friends, either. The last thing I need is you and your gang of jokers poking around where you don't belong."

He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly as he fixed Will with a pointed look. "So, what do you want?"

"I should've asked Trevor," Will muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Damien's smirk widened, making it clear he'd heard anyway.

Bracing himself for Damien's sharp tongue, Will took a deep breath. "I need advice... about a Valentine's date."

Damien let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Then you definitely shouldn't ask Trevor," he said. "Not unless you're in the mood for a long lecture about commodification and cultural hegemony."

"So you two don't celebrate it?" Will asked. "I thought everyone did."

"I don't care either way, but Trevor really hates it. And I mean really hates it." Damien let out a small laugh. "I'm still hearing the echoes of his rant from when one manager suggested a Valentine's episode for his comic. It was epic."

Will couldn't help but smirk. "Not everyone likes the same things," Damien continued, his tone growing more thoughtful, though the infuriatingly confident smile never left his face. "So, if you're planning some big Valentine's date, you should probably check if the other person's even into it."

Damien paused, then raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning sharper. "It's not Mike, is it? Because Steve is enough. Two love triangles would make a hexagram, and I'm not in the mood for demon summoning."

"It's Zach," Will replied. "We've been dating for months."

"Well, it's not like I'm interested in your love life," Damien said with a shrug, his smirk growing sharper. "But hey, good to know grand gestures work outside cheesy movies."

"I'll have you know it was me who asked him out," Will replied, trying his best to hold onto his dignity.

Damien's smirk stretched wider, creeping dangerously close to horror movie territory, in Will's opinion. Any moment now, it would split his face open, revealing the monster beneath. "Sure you did," Damien drawled. "After how many times Zach asked you first? I remain in great doubt about your boldness, but enough about that. Since I'm probably the last person you came to, what did Jonathan suggest? I'm dying to know."

"My brother is the last person on Earth I'd ask for love advice," Will shot back. "His advice would be utterly, spectacularly stupid."

Damien grinned, his eyes lighting up with glee. "Well, if it's stupid and it works, it's not stupid."

"Oh yes," Damien said, his tone positively gleeful. "Reggie—Steve's rich uncle, grand-uncle, or whatever—invited Steve to that island of his for spring break. And Steve invited none other than Nancy and Jonathan. As his plus two, I guess."

Will's voice rose in disbelief. "Isn't that a slave island?"

Damien nodded solemnly, though his wicked amusement never left his expression.

"Great. As if it wasn't bad enough Nancy has led them both by metaphorical leashes, now she's using actual ones."

Damien laughed, the sound spilling out like scattered pearls. "You're not entirely wrong," he said, smirking. "But you're missing the bigger picture."

Will raised an eyebrow. "Oh, enlighten me."

"Nancy's got that whole righteousness-and-strength thing going on, sure," Damien said, his tone casual but laced with amusement. "But people like her? They want to be punished for their misdeeds. It's part of the deal. When you're carrying all that weight, sometimes you just want someone else to take over."

Will stared at him, his mouth slightly open. "You've clearly thought way too much about this."

Damien shrugged, his grin widening. "What can I say? I'm an observer of human nature." He leaned in slightly, his eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. "And Steve? Steve's a caretaker through and through. I believe they call that a service top."

Will winced. "And my brother? Don't tell me Jonathan's hiding some secret master persona."

Damien burst out laughing again, sharp and delighted. "Oh, no. Jonathan is the subbiest sub who ever subbed. No question."

"Does Steve have any self-respect?" Will asked. He knew he was supposed to be happy for his brother—Jonathan was getting what he wanted—but the whole thing left a sour taste in his mouth.

Damien's smirk faded, his tone turning more serious. "It's been months," he said evenly. "He either needs to make a clean break or forgive them. There's a limit to how long you can live in limbo."

Will frowned but didn't interrupt.

"And it's his choice in the end," Damien continued. "Not yours, not mine."

The whole conversation with Damien left Will unsettled, like a low buzzing under his skin that wouldn't quite go away. As much as he hated to admit it, Damien had a point—he needed to stop overthinking and just talk to Zach.

So, after school, he finally brought it up.

It turned out to be a bit like stepping into a whirlwind.

"Valentine's Day?" Zach said, practically bouncing as he paced back and forth in front of Will, gesturing wildly with his hands. "I don't hate it, but, like, it's so commercialized, right? Hearts everywhere, overpriced chocolate, flowers that die—why is that romantic? But also…" He stopped abruptly, spinning to face Will, his eyes alight with curiosity. "It's kind of fascinating, don't you think? Like, how did this become a whole holiday? Saint Valentine, executions, love, candy? It's wild."

Will blinked, trying to keep up with the rapid-fire shifts in Zach's tone and topics. "So… you're not into it?" he asked cautiously.

Zach tilted his head, squinting at Will like he'd just asked a particularly tricky riddle. "Not into it, but not against it either," he replied, his voice speeding up again. "I mean, I've never done the Valentine's thing before, but maybe I'd like it? Who knows? I'm open to trying stuff!" Then he grinned, leaning slightly closer. "We could meet for hot chocolate. If we switch cups, it's, like, giving chocolate and an indirect kiss at the same time. Very efficient."

Will stared at him, his cheeks growing warm. "That's… one way to look at it," he said, managing to keep his tone even.

Zach laughed, bright and chaotic, like he'd just solved the world's biggest problem. "I'm full of good ideas," he said, already bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Will shook his head, unable to help a small smile. Even with Zach's hyper, unpredictable energy, the tension in his chest eased.

Still, he decided to finish the painting and bring it to their meeting. Zach's take on Valentine's Day might've been more academic curiosity than romance, but that didn't matter. The painting wasn't about the holiday—it was about Zach. And that was reason enough.