Galen pulled the caramel from the stove and let it start cooling. He didn’t have the nerve to look over, either. He had never thought about it in such bleak terms before. From his perspective, it had all just seemed like the right thing to do, but to August… well, he could understand now why the man was willing to let what his parents did go. It started to seem like a small unfairness when compared to everything else.
“Okay, you’ve made your point,” Galen said sighing, “I’ll let it go. I guess not everything has to be fair to be good. I’ll feel better once I have some cake.”
August decided that that was as much of a resolution as the conversation was going to have. He didn’t think he could keep going without embarrassing himself in front of Galen. He asked lightheartedly, “What are we making, anyway?”
“Croquembouche,” Galen replied, “This next part needs to get done pretty quickly. We’ve got to dip the choux in the caramel and build them up until they cover the cone.”
August looked at the cone somewhat skeptically, but he followed Galen’s lead and soon they were stacking pastry up like bricks around it, the caramel acting like a mortar. They had to work quickly before the sauce could harden, so after a few minutes, the whole tower was complete.
August stood back and whistled as Galen drizzled more strands of caramel over the cone as a finishing touch. “What are you planning on doing with this thing?” he asked.
“We’re going to eat it,” Galen replied, backing up to assess his work, “and the pastry will go soggy if we wait too long.”
August chuckled, “All that work, and we’re just going to demolish it?”
“That’s the nature of baking,” Galen shrugged, “I like the process of it, though. Very cathartic.”
“Alright, let’s call it dinner, then, But I have to take a photo first.” August started unfolding his comm to do so.
Galen rushed to tidy himself up. He took out the claw clip and smoothed out his hair with the hand that had the least caramel on it and fixed his apron so that it was on straight. He struck a proud posture beside the cake, the top of which came up to Galen’s chest. August did his best to frame them well and took a photo, showing him on his comm.
Galen nodded in satisfaction. “Alright, now we can eat it.”
They took the croquembouche to the messy dining table and tore it apart with the same hands that had just built it. They lapsed into a focused silence as August divided the cream puffs between them. The crunch of the caramel and the lightness of the pastry melded into the rich and sweet cream. It made August wonder if he’d ever have such a good dessert again.
Towards the end, Galen spoke up. “I do feel better now,” he declared, leaning back in his chair. “I think I’ll just buy an urn. Maybe call my sister to vent. I hate to bother her, but she’s one of the Prime Minister’s top staff, so the situation’s not a secret from her.”
August polished off the last of the cake and stood up. He said, “That sounds like a good plan. If you want, there’s probably space for something like that in the library.”
“I’ll pick something subtle, then,” Galen agreed and stood up, too. After a moment, he sniffed and added, “And, thanks… for helping me with the cake. And everything else. I’m sorry I’m such a mess.” It must have been disappointing for August, who knew him as a celebrity, to see how frustrated, and frustrating, he could get. He looked to the mess he’d made of the floor and couldn’t stop an embarrassing blush from crawling up on him.
August looked at this sincere Galen and wanted nothing more than to hug him. So, on impulse, he did. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Galen’s shoulders and remembered just how warm the Omega was. He was captivated for a moment, in a different way than he’d been before, as he felt Galen hug him back. They stood together for a moment before August remembered a very important fact. “Shit, the caramel,” he said, peeling his hand off of Galen’s back and almost taking Galen’s shirt with it. It made a soft Velcro noise as it came unglued.
Galen snorted and shook with laughter as August extricated himself from the sticky situation. He, too, had to slowly pull himself away as the fabric of August’s shirt tried to follow his hands. “Why don’t you take a shower?” Galen suggested, his eyes still crinkled with mirth, “and I’ll start on the dishes.”
August could only nod his head and agree as he blushed at his mistake. By the time he had recovered, Galen had already finished with the dishes.
A week or two later, August finally met up with Xanier for the study session they’d agreed upon. As usual, Xanier had already grabbed a quiet table in the library, tucked into a window corner at the edge of the shelves.
“This is a nice spot,” August commented as he walked over, “You must have gotten here pretty early to get it.” With the end of the semester imminent, the library was getting busier and busier.
“Yeah, I’ve been here since it opened,” Xanier admitted, pulling his things to one side of the table. “I was doing some work for Professor Jane earlier.” Xanier had a workaholic streak, and had already started to do small projects for their professors, even though he was just an undergrad.
August grabbed a chair and sat down. He pulled all his paper textbooks and notes out of his bag and stacked them on the table. “You’re doing work for her, on top of everything else?” he asked.
Xanier sighed, “She knows I love to help out, and her precious Alpha TA is flaking out on her, so she asked me to do some grading for the first year class.” He rested his cheek in his hand and sighed. It was easy to guess that he was already tired. “I just wish those slackers wouldn’t take advantage of us responsible ones, you know? Betas are always the ones getting everything done in the end.”
August replied, “You can always relax a little more, though. It’s fine if you have to turn people down once in a while.” Xanier’s diligent attitude was one of the things that made him a good friend, and August had really appreciated his help when he was getting used to normal university life, but he didn’t want to see him burn himself out.
“I know, I know you and Milly both say that, but I’m still helping you, aren’t I?” Xanier waved him off and changed the subject. “How about you? You don’t have to put on a brave face for me. Is your health okay?” He creased his brow and frowned in a show of concern.
August shrugged. He told him, “Yeah, more or less. I’m trialing something new, and if it works, it might mean I get to live a lot longer. But it’s a big change and I’m still getting used to it. And I don’t know if I should be more worried if it’s working or if it isn’t.”
“That sounds like good news!” Xanier said, “Why didn’t you say anything to me earlier? I would’ve helped you way sooner if I’d known. You don’t have to play things so close to the chest all the time."
“I guess I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up if it doesn’t work, if that makes sense. Actually, I, uh, haven’t even told my parents,” August admitted, scratching his face. He hated the feeling of sucking up all the air in a room when he talked about his health.
“Wow, listen, I’m not sure that level of stoicism is healthy. I get why your parents are different, but I promise I can handle anything you tell me,” Xanier said. He held eye contact until August understood how serious he was.
If it weren’t for the confidentiality agreement, August might have been tempted. It would be nice to not have to keep secrets. However, no matter how solemn Xanier was, he doubted someone as high-strung as him would be able to keep his composure if he knew the truth. Milly had managed to get some pretty funny reactions out of the guy by describing some of the crazier gossip stories she’d researched. It wouldn’t be fair to ask Xanier to keep a secret like that even if August trusted him with it.
“It’s fine for now,” August said, “But thanks for the offer, and thanks for helping me today, too.”
Xanier waited a beat before he dropped the issue. He said, “Well, why don’t we get started by looking at your papers? We can review the notes afterwards, and then I can quiz you.”
August agreed and unfolded his comm, spreading it over most of the table. Fortunately, the group project was well in hand, so there wasn’t much left to do on it but add some polish before the deadline. August was more worried about everything else. He and Xanier went back and forth editing the essays and reports he’d started, and worked on the outlines for the ones he hadn’t. They also discussed August’s plan to get everything done, and Xanier gave his advice on what needed the most time to complete. The hardest part would be catching up on the readings.
After that, August folded up his comm to a smaller size so that he could spread out his hand written notes while still looking at his digital ones. Xanier helped fill him in on the information he was missing, and they chatted about the subjects as they worked. “Well the notes are in good shape,” Xanier finally declared, yawning again, “let’s do some review; I just have to ask questions and you do all the work.”
“Yeah, I just gotta use the bathroom first,” August replied. He stood up from the desk and stretched himself out. Xanier said he’d wait, so he wove through the stacks until he got to where he needed to go. He discovered that the only fault of Xanier’s table choice was that it seemed to be as remote a spot as one could get.
There was a vending machine near the bathrooms, so when August was done, he bought Xanier a coffee before heading back. “I got you this,” he said while setting it down on the table.
“Thanks,” Xanier said distractedly. He tilted his comm screen down and out of view before picking it up, finally giving his eyes a break.
“It’s the least I could do.” August sat and reached for his comm, but found that he was holding it upside down. He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to do that; he’d been using it all morning and it didn’t make sense for him to have left it the other way around. He righted it and was about to say something to Xanier when Xanier suddenly spoke.
“Okay, which two opposing movements arose from the Second Expansion, and what was their major disagreement?” he asked.
August immediately refocused and gave his best guess at the answer.
“Right. Next one—” Xanier started drilling August, and August had to give all his attention to the quiz. After a long and difficult series of questions, August felt much more confident in himself. There were definitely a few areas he needed to focus on when he studied, but at least he now knew where they were.
Xanier, on the other hand, looked pretty done. Despite the coffee, he was rather spacey, and he was unusually short-tempered. He packed up all of his things, and August waved his friend off as he hopefully went and got some rest. August himself stayed put; he kept working in the library for another few hours, powering through some of his reading backlog. When he was finally satisfied, he packed up and went home to have supper with Galen.
August was continuing his schoolwork the next day when someone knocked on the door. This had never happened since August had moved in; Galen’s deliveries were always automated, and his own family weren’t the type to drop by unannounced.
He left his office and poked his head down the stairs. “Is that for you?” he asked Galen, who was sitting on the living room couch.
“No…” Galen replied. He was staring at the door himself. Whoever it was started knocking again.
“I’ll take a look,” August said, “Do you wanna go to the guest room?”
Galen hummed in agreement and took his comm to go hide himself as August came down the stairs. Once the living room was empty, August opened the front door. On the other side was a very tall, smartly-dressed woman. “Hello,” she said, holding out a manicured hand, “I’m Deana Cosme, editor-in-chief of the Promenade.” There were several leaves stuck to her pantleg.
August’s heart gave a start and he rushed to close the door on her. The Alpha behind the city’s biggest gossip company was not anyone he’d expected or wanted to see. But he wasn’t fast enough. Deana leaned past him into the doorway and yelled, “Galen! Sweetie, It’s Deana!”
