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As far as avoiding people went, Grayson had been doing a good job. Were he a more pessimistic person, he might think that his luck was going to run out sooner rather than later, but he had thankfully not considered that option. He was just grateful that he hadn't managed to run into Dani at all that day, nor Barnaby. Not that Barnaby knew anything about the situation as far as he knew, but there was always the possibility and he just didn't want to risk it.

Yes, he was avoiding his problem. He could recognize the signs, knew very well what he was doing, and yet... he continued to do it. It was easiest and safest, and until he was forced to confront the problem, he simply wouldn't.

Jude forced him to confront it.

By the time he realized that the truck parked out side of the school belonged to Jude it was too late to turn and pretend he hadn't seen him. Grayson was a lot of things, not all of them very admirable, but he couldn't just turn his back on Jude. Part of him hoped that he was waiting for Barnaby, but the moment Grayson's walk slowed, Jude leaned out the window, jerking a hand toward the passenger seat.

The last thing Grayson wanted to do was have a talk, this talk, just then. But, it was Jude. He really wasn't in a position to be deciding when and where he wanted to talk about what had passed between them, especially considering... considering.

So, he mutely climbed into the truck, fastened the seat belt. He was uncomfortable for a number of reasons, but he decided to focus on his uniform and the shorts. Those damn shorts.

He tugged on the hem, turned to look out the window. As the school slipped from view, his heart hammered in his ribs.

This wasn't going to end well. It was a mantra in his head.

Of all the questions in the world, Grayson hadn't expected that one. He paused in the act of fidgeting with the hem of his shorts again, slowly turning to look at Jude. For a moment, he even forgot the awkwardness between them; the question was so ridiculous that he hiked a brow, replied immediately, "No. I don't think it exists."

For someone who was Sailor Leo by night, he had a remarkably limited imagination. This applied to most things supernatural, everything ranging from ghosts to Bigfoot and all manner of creatures in between. It also applied to reasons for being at the mall; he almost assumed Jude had business there, that perhaps he was just along to assist. That maybe Jude was going to pretend nothing had happened at all.

That was his plan. His masterful plan had been to avoid everyone at all costs, and when confronted, act completely normal. He wasn't doing the best job of that to begin with, but he thought he could follow along easily enough if Jude wanted to go down that path.

It would ache, a bit, and be the answer he had already expected... but better, somehow. Because he wouldn't lose Jude entirely.

He didn't want to lose Jude as a friend.

He looked down at his hands, examined the blunt, short nails on the backs of his fingers.

And he was quiet. Jude may not have been intentionally ignoring him earlier, but Grayson was, a little.

In the back of his mind, even as Grayson fought against the urge to let his mind wander in the face of a speech, he registered that he liked the sound of Jude's voice. When he wasn't angry or upset, there was such a nice cadence to it; when his accent slipped through, it was charming. It didn't seem to matter that he was going off on a tangent, that half the things he said to Grayson didn't make any sense at all. He just liked hearing him talk.

And then it began to make sense, and sound all too familiar. Without knowing it, Jude was describing how Grayson felt about him more often than not. How many times had he puzzled over something said, a peculiar look, an offhand gesture? Even when he thought he knew what was coming next, Jude surprised him. Grayson was predictable if he was anything, and by all rights, he should have been much more irritated than he was with Jude's remarkably complicated thinking patterns. He supposed there were a lot of things he should be more irritated by when it came to Jude, but he couldn't bring himself to.

A lot of that had to do with Tristan, and the fact that Jude had saved his life. No greater service could have been paid to him, nothing could have endeared Jude more to Grayson than that one coincidental act. All that followed had only strengthened his admiration and fondness for the other Zodiac, and though he hadn't realized it, he had been changing slowly. Or, at least, his feelings had.

And then he had realized it, and he wished he hadn't.

He expelled a breath, eyes distant. He'd been listening, but it wouldn't be too large a leap to assume he hadn't. He'd been lost in thought just long enough to make it seem like he wouldn't answer when he said, quietly, "Yeah. I do."

He brought his hand up, ran it over his mouth. He smiled a little, behind it, and admitted, "Most of the time, that's the way I feel about people. I don't really understand them at all." He lifted a shoulder, the shrug a little helpless. "Sometimes, not even myself."

There was only so much he could feel before he became immune to some of it. Jude inspired a lot of things in him, feelings that weren't brought out by anyone else, good and bad. Bravery and strength, temper and misery, Grayson felt like he was constantly ricocheting from one extreme to the other at the slightest provocation from Jude. It was enough to wear anyone out without having any other outside influences pressing in. Maybe a stronger man would have given up, turned away from the person who stirred them up beyond reasonable measure, rattled them and set them on edge by virtue of being themselves. Grayson was not that strong of a person.

Or maybe he wasn't that weak. For everything that Jude brought out in himself that he didn't like, he also saw things he did. Not only in himself, but in Jude as well. He saw the good and the bad and weighed them, knew he would have accepted Jude even if the scales were tipped too far from his favor. He was a little blind like that, a little stupid.

He couldn't help it.

Somewhere along the line he'd turned his head, gone from looking out the window and watching people pass by to studying Jude's profile. He could remember once before thinking how nice it was, the distinctive line of his jaw, the slight bump in his nose from it being broken a time or two in the past. It was a youthful face, one that looked best when the mouth was curved in a rogue's grin, but a face that held eyes much too old.

Because there was nothing for him to say, he simply listened. When Jude looked at him, he would only see a carefully blank expression, one that said he was trying his best to understand. To not miss something important. He'd learned, over time, that Jude's tangents always meant something, even when it didn't seem like they did.

Baby rabbits, after all.

The smoke blew in his face, made him cough. He covered his mouth, turned his face away so that he wouldn't do so on Jude, then dropped his hand back to his lap. His gaze drifted across the dash, to the steering wheel, back to Jude again.

His lips were pressed thin, thoughtful, and he tilted his head just a bit. He waited a moment, then said slowly, "You'll do the best you can, Jude. You'll try to make everyone happy."

He smiled a bit. It was what Jude did, even though he went about it the wrong way sometimes, wanted and tried too much, too big.

He brought his hand up again, scratched his cheek. "I hope that's what's best for you, though." Because all things considered, what was best for Jude was the most important thing.

To him, anyway.

There were a lot of reasons Grayson hadn't thought to tell Jude what he was feeling. For one, he was still struggling with that question himself, would likely struggle with it for a while longer yet. It seemed so obvious, and yet... there were parts of himself that he had to sort, parts of himself that contradicted one another. He knew he cared for Jude and probably always had, would probably always care even when it wasn't exactly the best thing he could do for himself, but damned if he knew how much. He thought he knew, sometimes, but then he doubted himself. It was a vicious cycle, one that he was getting weary of spinning.

Another, he knew it was impossible. Knew it down to the core of himself, and even if most of that was his own insecurity, the doubts that constantly flagged him and anchored him, it was also realistic. Jude was honest; Jude had told him so himself, and he believed him. That was another reason to never say, to simply accept what he could have and pine for what he couldn't. Only, he hadn't followed the plan. He still hadn't told him, but he'd showed him.

Sort of.

Honesty was something that Grayson believed in, something he strived for, something that eluded him at the moments it mattered most. Jude was partially correct in that he'd kept his silence on the other man's behalf, but that wasn't all of it. He wanted to agree, to lie by omission and let the topic pass them by. He was already bracing himself for the thanks, but no thanks, and it somehow hurt a little more knowing Jude was trying to be nice about it. It shouldn't have made it harder, but it did.

Maybe because it did, he decided to be totally honest.

"No," he said, and for the first time since he'd sat down, he sounded a little relieved. "I don't, exactly. I don't even know exactly what I feel, but I can tell you what I do know."

He closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose. It wasn't easy to gather the tatters of his courage, swallow the last of his pride, but he did. What did he have to lose?

"I regret kissing you. Not because it was you, but because it was me." He pursed his lips, licked them. "Because I do care. I want to see you happy, and I know... I know that I don't have the power to do that."

He pinched harder, then dropped his hand. "And I kept quiet for your sake, Jude, but I kept quiet for my sake too. I don't take things like this well," his voice trailed away for a moment, following his eyes. Then they were both back, and there was a calmness to his voice, a gentle acceptance that said he knew what was to come and didn't mind. "So, I suppose I do know what I want, partly. I want to be happy, and I want you to be happy. I want to try to be friends."

He shifted then, hand on the seat between them, and his expression was earnest. Still tired, still worn, but earnest. "I want to be all right with that, even though there's some of me that isn't. That's okay, though, it'll probably always be that way."

It was like a fist around his heart, squeezing slowly. "I know I'm asking a lot of you."

For not the first time in his life, Grayson stared at Jude Lawson while he took the entire world and turned it over on its side. He didn't think to draw his hand away when Jude took it, didn't dare move a muscle while he watched the kind of stupid wonder that you only saw in moves as the bluenette brought it to his lips. It was a scene he had never even imagined, and because of it, he didn't even breathe. Didn't even think to.

His eyebrows raised slowly, the corners of his mouth turned down in unmistakable confusion. He'd struggled with the idea of a conversation after his mistake, had imagined a thousand different scenarios that ended a thousand different ways. None of them had included anything close to this.

And it made him afraid.

He remembered to breathe only when he started to feel a little light headed, and he dared to move his fingers a fraction, form a grip on the hand that still held his. He didn't understand, and that was obvious in his face, more obvious by the fact that he was so still and tense. It was like standing on a balcony a hundred floors up and then suddenly impacting the ground, missing all of the free falling in between; this was unexpected because he'd never thought to expect it, never prepared himself for the possibility that he wouldn't be completely and utterly rejected.

Because he wasn't prepared, the heart that was teetering on the edge of a decision fell fast and completely, almost as though it had only been waiting for the slightest sign to completely give itself away. He'd never come close to this with anyone, and again, it scared him. If he'd thought Jude had the power to hurt him before, there was no telling how deep a wound could go now.

He couldn't have stopped it if he tried.

So, instead, he memorized the lines of Jude's face, his stomach doing somersaults when his eyes traveled the length of it. He'd never seen a look like that on Jude's face before, wouldn't be surprised if he never saw it again.

Finally, he licked his lips, went to speak and stopped himself suddenly. It was an odd noise, and a flush crawled up his face, subtle at first. "Sometimes, Jude."

Then came the smile, slower than the blush, overpowering it in its sweet simplicity. "Sometimes, I really don't know what to do with you."

So he twisted his hand, palm seeking palm, and curled his fingers, entwining their grips.

For the first time, he let himself hope, just a little.

It did hurt, but Grayson only dimly noticed it. He was waiting for the moment when he woke up and realized that he'd fallen asleep between second and third periods, and the longer the seconds stretched on, the less sure he was that it was coming. There was a voice that whispered to him, a voice that couldn't be completely subdued even then, that wondered when the punchline would come. It made doubt flicker into his face, made the palm pressed so tight against Jude's go a little slack for just a moment. Who was he trying to fool, thinking that this could be anything but --

I can help you.

He wanted to believe it. Did believe it, and once again, his heart was leading and his brain loped along behind, struggling to match the pace. He trusted Jude, and as far as he knew, always had. Maybe that staggering trust would turn around and be the thing that buried him one day, but nothing was built on maybe. Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn't.

Maybe it would only work for as long as it took for Jude to come to his senses. He didn't care.

Is that okay?

Even still, he was hesitant when he brought his other hand up, the touch almost too light as he rested his fingertips against Jude's shoulder. His thumb arched back, grazed the line of his strong jaw, nail rubbing lightly against skin.

There was no denying the caution in his movements, the uncertainty that kept his grip light and made him focus on breathing slow. There was also no denying the warmth that built in his eyes, the way his voice deepened with a rarely expressed emotion that wasn't temper, but something tender.

"All I ask of you," and his thumb was moving again, tracing his jaw. "is that you be yourself. I don't need anything else, Jude."

And one eyebrow arched higher than the other, mirth coming into his tone. "And I'll make you just as angry as you make me. I'm sorry to say that's a promise. But we'll work on it."

His hand slid upward, fingers curled loosely around Jude's neck, teased the tips of his hair. "So don't worry, all right?"

It probably seemed naive. Grayson knew very well that no matter the duration, they were probably going to hurt one another. The longer they tried whatever they were attempting, the more likely it would be, the more grievous the wounds and battle scars they could collect. It was enough that the Grayson of two weeks ago would have shied away from the very prospect of it.

The Grayson today welcomed it.

Grayson was torn between being elated and wanting to punch Jude again, which was a feeling he supposed he was going to have to get used to. He settled for attempting dignity, which would have been a lot more convincing if the blush hadn't flared back to life, obvious against his pale cheeks.

His voice held no heat when he moved his hand from Jude's neck, casually popped him on the side of the head. "You weren't my type." He waited a beat. "I suppose you are now, though."

And he brushed some hair behind Jude's ear, finally drew his hand back to rest it atop his own thigh. It was going to take him a while to get used to this, he knew. He would probably pinch himself, ridiculous as the thought was, and then regret doing so immediately afterward.

It was just nothing he had expected.

He bit his lower lip, a faint frown etching onto his features, and added, "I do not, however, suck at kissing. I wasn't even trying before."

There was definitely a pout in his voice, lurking somewhere behind amusement as his expression cleared once more. He'd said they'd work on it, hadn't he?

It had been a while since he'd had a decent kiss.

Hopefully Jude was decent.