— vingt et un ; twenty one —

THE WEEK LEADING UP to the first day of the school year, and Henri's first day at Edgar Allan University, was stressful for a couple of different reasons.

There was the obvious reveal of his identity to the public. He had never been more aware that up until this moment, for seventeen years, he hadn't technically existed. He had a social security number and a passport and a birth certificate, but he didn't exist, not in the public eye where he would have if he'd grown up with people knowing he was Jean Moreau's little brother. He had been another irrelevant stranger but now he would become an identity, a figure of interest, impossible to hide.

"The Master is revealing the names of his new recruits the day before the term starts," Soren told them, after practice one day. "We can expect reporters and cameras hounding this place, wanting answers. That means no one is allowed to leave on that day and to let security deal with it."

"Why?" Aria demanded. "They're all gonna be after Moreau Junior over there, not us. It's not our problem."

"It will be if the Master finds out you disobeyed him, so stay here or face him yourself."

Another reason was that he needed to pick his subjects for the next school year. It wasn't a big deal, but Henri spent longer fretting over it than he expected. He kept thinking that this might be his last year alive and as stupid as it was that this was one of his concerns, considering Ichirou's threat was hanging over his head, he wanted to spend his last year doing subjects he enjoyed. Art was an obvious choice. He'd already started using the sketchpad Soren had given him, not for anything serious or thought out, but random sketches to get back into it. Holding the pencil and letting his thoughts out on paper reminded him just how much he'd missed drawing.

"Hey," Henri said, lying sprawled out on one of the sofas. Lucas and Kit were sharing another one, playing video games on the TV, and Xander was reading a book on a different one. "Have you guys picked your subjects yet?"

"The deadline to send in your choices is today, Henri," Luvas said, jabbing at the controller. "You're cutting it close."

"I know, but I don't have a clue what to pick."

"Fuck!" Kit groaned as his online avatar was riddled with bullets and fell to the ground in a bloody pile. He turned to look at Henri. "Dude, it's really not that heavy. Just pick four random subjects and be done with it. That's what I did."

"And that's why you had a barely passing GPA in high school," Lucas smirked.

"Shut up, Lucas. I'd shoot you if my avatar was still alive."

"Don't you have any idea what you want to take?" Xander asked, looking up from his book.

"Art," Henri shrugged. "I guess."

Lucas looked at him in surprise. "An artist, huh?"

"I don't think liking art makes you an artist."

"There must be other subjects you like," Xander said reasonably. "And if not, you have time to change what you take. Pick three other subjects you think you might like and see how it goes."

Henri was fascinated by languages, considering he already spoke two, so he decided to give Spanish and Latin a chance. He also found history interesting, learning about the events and wars that had shaped the current world, so that gave him his fourth and final subject. With that sorted, there was still the issue he needed sorted by August 28th — a birthday present for Soren. The timing was short, but Henri wanted to return the favour and now he was getting paid, he could actually afford something. The only problem was that he had no clue what to get him. To say Soren was difficult to buy for would be an understatement so Henri turned to the only person who'd have a clue.

"A birthday present?" Loren tilted her head at Henri's question and looked at him from where she was sitting cross-legged on her bed. "I didn't realise you and Soren were that close."

"We're not," was Henri's automatic response. "I mean, I hate him." Which wasn't true at all. "But he got me something and it would be a dick move if I didn't get him something too."

"He did?" Loren looked a little stricken. "Shit, Henri. I feel bad that I didn't get you something now."

Henri waved a dismissive hand. "Trust me, I really don't care. That's not the point at all. I'm almost certain Soren is a robot programmed to imitate human emotion and I'm not sure what interests robots have."

"Well," Loren said, smiling, "for a robot, Soren really likes reading."

"Oh yeah," Henri said. "He's always got his head buried in old dusty relics like Shakespeare and Jane Austen. I've seen the whole collection on his shelves but I have no idea if there are any books left which he hasn't read."

"I don't think it's about what he has or hasn't read."

Henri was confused. "What do you mean?"

"When we grew up, we didn't exactly have much money," Loren said carefully, as if considering her words, and Henri was suddenly very interested. Soren's past was something he was always curious about but it wasn't a conversation he wanted to bring up because it meant Soren was free to ask whatever questions he had about Henri's parents. "Any books Soren managed to get his hands on and keep, they were either library property he convinced librarians to let him keep or dirty secondhand copies from charity shops. He's always liked beautiful copies but he could never have them."

Henri nodded absently. "What's his favourite book?"

"It's not a book, but he's always loved Othello," Loren replied. "A Shakespeare play. I couldn't tell you anything about it but he could probably quote any scene from it."

Henri, about as literate as a monkey, had no clue about anything to do with Shakespeare but the name sounded vaguely familiar. He'd seen Soren's copy of Othello, a tattered thing falling apart at the seams. With that name in mind, Henri took a trip downtown the next afternoon and walked the street until he found a bookstore. It was a long shot that he'd find the specific play he was searching for here but he looked anyway, scouring the classics section, but there was no Othello. His final shot was to approach the girl behind the desk.

"Hey," he said. "Do you have any copies of Othello?"

"Othello? Wait there a sec." She disappeared into a door at the back of the store and returned with a smile. "You're in luck, actually. We have a limited first class edition of Othello available."

"Great. How much is it?"

"Forty dollars," she answered.

"Forty...are you serious?" Henri almost choked on his own spit. "Forty fucking dollars for a book?"

She frowned. "Well, it's a play. There's also the fact that the limited editions are only available at one our larger branches in New York, and delivery will cost extra."

"Jesus," Henri muttered. "How much extra?"

"Regular? Five dollars. If you want express or next day, it'll be ten."

Fifty dollars. Of the bartending shifts Henri had been called in for, that was half of the money he'd made. But it wasn't like Henri was saving it up for anything and he could easily make the fifty back working more shifts at Matt's Bar. "Okay," Henri said, digging his newly purchased wallet out. "Fifty dollars for next day delivery, please."

Henri went and collected the limited first edition of Othello the next day, August 27th. It was hardback and glossy new, with silver lettering and a fancy design even Henri could appreciate. He didn't think the flimsy thing was worth forty dollars but as long as it meant something to Soren, it didn't matter. He tucked it under his pillow when he got back to Evermore and didn't bring it out again until the 28th. He was making out with Soren, his back pressed against the headboard and hands pressed against the hot skin of Soren's abdomen, when it occurred to him that night may have turned to morning as the time passed.

"Wait," Henri said, a little breathlessly, making himself pull back from Soren.

"What?" Soren said impatiently.

"Just need to — "

He forgot what he'd been about to say when Soren leant forward and caught Henri's lower lip between his teeth, biting down gently. Henri moaned and arched his back, pressing himself closer against Soren, and sat up so he was the one pushing Soren down on the bed. Soren caught his wrists and pinned them above Henri's head with one hand, the other one trialing agonisingly slow down his chest and then beneath the covers to brush featherlight fingers along his dick. Henri moaned again, louder than he meant to, and Soren smothered the sound with his mouth.

"Don't tease me, asshole," Henri murmured against his lips.

Soren cocked an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound like please to me."

"I'm not begging for it," Henri said, both of them knowing that was a lie. "You have another thing coming, you arrogant fuck, if you think — "

Soren suddenly tightened his grip and Henri's breath caught in his throat, every muscle tensing as all the blood in his body rushed downwards. Soren kissed him as hard as he moved his hand, every stroke sparking Henri's nerve endings, but he still wanted more, needed more. "Harder," Henri whispered, his voice rough with desire. "Go faster...Jesus fuck, Soren — "

Soren bit his lip again, harder. "That fast enough for you?"

"Gonna come," Henri gasped in response.

He slumped back against the mattress and shuddered with the release, too exhausted from burnt out need to do anything more than lie there. Soren rolled over off him and onto the bed next to him, wiping his sticky hand off on Henri's chest and content to let him catch his breath. When thought finally came back in coherent pieces, he remembered what he'd been meaning to before Soren had distracted him. He grabbed his discarded shirt and cleaned up the mess, making sure he had gotten all of it because the last thing he wanted to do was ruin Soren's present, before tossing the shirt to the floor.

He reached for his phone on the bedside table and turned the glowing screen towards Soren to show him the time, 12:13AM. "Happy birthday," he said.

Soren looked unimpressed. "You're allowed to say it to me and I can't say it to you?"

"You catch on fast. Wait," Henri said, pushing himself up into sitting position and pointing a warning finger at Soren. "Really wait. Don't try and distract me this time."

"Not my fault you're so easily distracted."

Henri shot him a flat look and dug the copy of Othello out from under his pillow. "Here," he said, tossing it onto Soren's chest. "I don't have a clue what that thing's about, but Loren told me you liked it. I flicked through some of the pages to see what the big hype is around this Shakespeare guy and I don't even think it's written in English. None of it makes any sense, but if that's what you're into — "

Henri bit his tongue to stop himself rambling on and realised he was nervous. Soren still hadn't said a word and Henri honestly had no idea how he would take this present. Handjobs and kissing and blowjobs was all familiar territory. This, exchanging gifts and sharing beds, was straying towards what neither of them would ever talk about. Not because Henri didn't want to, but because Soren would never let that happen. Outside this bedroom, they barely spoke to each other or did anything that could give them away, and Henri was scared he'd tipped the scales the wrong way now.

He finally risked a glance at Soren to see he was staring down at the cover with an indecipherable expression. Carefully, as if worried he might damage it, he opened to the first page and ran his fingers across the paper. Henri found himself holding his breath as he waited for him to say something, anything.

"Henri," he said slowly, "where did you get this?"

"Does it matter?"

"This is limited first edition." Soren closed the book and pressed his hand to the shiny lettering. "Do you have any idea how much these things cost?"

"Shut up about money," Henri said impatiently. "Do you like it or not?"

Soren shoved it into his hands. "I'm not taking this from you."

"Like hell you're not." Henri shoved it back into his hands and curled Soren's fingers around it. "What am I supposed to do with it? Read it out loud to myself and wonder what the hell it means?"

"Return it."

"I'm not fucking returning it, Soren."

"I can't take it."

"You can't or you won't?"

Soren glared at him and Henri glared right back. Henri could see in his eyes he wanted it and he wasn't about to let something as stupid as money stop him having it. If Henri hadn't wanted to spend the money, he wouldn't have, and Soren would have been looking at a bar of soap for an obligatory present.

"You're going to take it," Henri said. "And if you don't, I'll throw it in the toilet and make you watch me flush it down. So you either take the copy or it takes a one way trip down to the sewers. You think the fish will appreciate Shakespeare?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Many things," Henri said. "But I think you know that by now."

Some stared at him for a second longer before leaning over him, placing the Othello copy on the bedside table, and kissed Henri with enough force that his phone slipped from his hand. Neither of them reacted to the clatter of the phone hitting the floor and Henri's whole body blazed with heat at the weight of Soren's body against his, pressing him further into the mattress. Henri could feel Soren's hard-on and moved his hand down to brush it through his pants, liking the way Soren's whole body shifted closer to him and he moaned into Henri's mouth.

"Consider this your second birthday present," Henri said with a smirk.

His hand was just about to slide into his pants when distantly, over the pounding of his heart in his ears, he heard the click of the door opening. He definitely heard the shocked gasp and jerked away from Soren, instinctively pushing him away from him. Soren moved to the end of the bed away from Henri and turned to stare at Loren, who was standing in the doorway with wide green eyes and both hands covering her mouth. Henri yanked the covers up to his chest, suddenly very aware that he was naked, but he didn't think Loren even noticed.

"I came to wish you happy birthday," she choked out. "I'm — sorry. I should have knocked."

"Loren — "

She turned and bolted before Soren could finish his sentence. The silence that settled over them was too thick to speak into and Henri wondered what this meant. He considered Loren as his friend, but he wasn't sure how she would feel about him know. It's not that either of them were doing anything wrong, but Henri hadn't mentioned a word of this to Loren, or anyone for that matter, and her reaction told him Soren hadn't said anything either.

"Does she know?" Henri looked at Soren. "That you're gay?"

"She does now."

Henri winced a little at his bleak tone and watched as Soren stood up, grabbing a sweatshirt from his cupboard and yanking it on. "Go to sleep," he said, and turned the light off as he left.

Henri meant to stay awake and find out what they'd spoken about, but he found his eyes falling shut despite his best efforts and they spoke for longer than he was expecting. He was seconds away from drifting off when Soren stepped inside and he forced himself to sit up a little, yawning into his hand.

"What happened?"

Soren paused at the door. "Why didn't you go to sleep?"

"Because I didn't want to."

Soren paused before answering. "We just talked."

"About what?"

"None of your business," he said, irritated.

Henri knew better than to push it and dropped back against his pillows, listening in the dark as Soren got into his own bed. He wanted to get into the bed with him, and might have been brave enough to do it if not for what just happened. Henri knew he'd be rejected if he tried it. He felt into a restless sleep wondering just how awkward things would be when he had to face Loren tomorrow, now that she knew he was hooking up with her cousin.

Turns out, he didn't have to wonder for long. He wandered into the kitchen for an early coffee while Soren was in the shower but froze in the doorway because Loren was already there, spreading butter on toast. Henri considered leaving, too much of a pussy to deal with this now, and was turning to do just that when she suddenly looked up at him. It was just as awkward as he suspected it might be. He opened his mouth then closed it, having no idea what he was supposed to say to break the silence. He didn't need to because Loren did it for him.

"You're not that close, huh?"

She didn't sound angry, but Henri still winced at the words. "I'm sorry," he said lamely. "I didn't mean to lie to you. I just, uh..."

Her gaze softened. "It's okay. You don't have any reason to apologise, Henri. I guess I just wasn't expecting it and it caught me off-guard."

"I wasn't expecting it either," Henri admitted.

"You and Soren or me walking in?"

Henri blinked. "Uh, both?"

Loren looked down at her breakfast, slowly swiping the knife across the toast, and Henri wasn't sure what to do next. There was no open hostility between them but he didn't feel like the air had been cleared.

"Are we good?" Henri asked hesitantly.

Loren bit her lip. "Before that, I need to — I should tell you something, Henri. Something I probably should have said a while ago, although now I know it's for the best I didn't."

"Okay," Henri said, growing a little nervous at the way she was hedging around whatever it was she wanted to say. "Go ahead."

It was a long time before Loren spoke up and Henri could hear the rest of the Nest waking up, voices that would be reaching the kitchen soon. He wanted to urge her to hurry up before someone walked in and ruined the only time they could have this conversation, but he could see whatever this was was difficult for her to say. He bit his tongue to keep his words to himself and waited.

"I wasn't just surprised when I walked in last night," she said finally, her voice so quiet Henri had to strain to catch the words. "I was upset, too, because...because I like you," she blurted out, in such a rush the words almost blurred into one. It took Henri a moment to dissect the sentence and when he understood, his eyes widened. "I like you, like like you, and I have for longer than I ever should have. And last night was the reality check I needed which was hard to take."

"You...like me?" Henri said dumbly.

"Don't worry, I would never act on it," she assured him, misinterpreting his shock as something else. "I know that now and it's almost a relief, to know the truth. You're still my friend first, Henri. I only told you this because I wanted everything to be out in the open. If you're happy with Soren, I'm happy for both of you and I hope we can all move forward from here."

Henri knew he was supposed to speak now but he was still trying to take in what she was telling him, forget formulate an appropriate response to it. Absently, he wondered whether this had come up in conversation with Soren yesterday but didn't see why it would. This was about Henri, not Soren. It was just something he hadn't been expecting. Never once had he thought Loren felt anything more than friendship for him and he felt even more awkward than he had before he'd entered the kitchen.

"Loren," he began, and cleared his throat, trying again. "I had no idea."

She looked pained. "Can we just pretend this never happened?"

Henri managed a nod. Before either of them could say anything more, Xander and Benjamin entered the kitchen, talking about the upcoming Exy season. Henri went to the coffee machine and began brewing some, just for the sake of keeping his hands busy and his face hidden. He would gladly pretend nothing had ever happened but he didn't think it would be that easy, at least for a while.