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Jon does not stop until he’s at Robb’s classroom door. Barging in, dozens of pairs of eyes belonging to his big brother’s students are on him, but Jon is too busy communicating with Robb through his stare to care. He’s panting, and his legs feel like they will give up any time soon.
Robb turns his head to face the class again. "We’re done for today," his brother says, and a bunch of twenty-something youths shout in joy. Amid their hue and cry as they pack their stuff, Robb reminds them of the week's assignment, though Jon is sure it's lost on them as much as it is on him. No longer than five minutes later, the last student walks out of the room, and Jon stirs from beside the door where he had been standing.
"I have just done something so, so fucking stupid," Jon whispers, a cold bead of sweat running down his temple. Robb clutches his arm, guiding him to the closest seat. He then jogs back to his table, bringing a bottle of water and a pack of tissues when he returns.
Robb opens the bottled water and hands it to him. Forcing Jon’s hand to hold up the bottle and drink when he’s not moving to take it. "I’m sure it’s not as stupid as that one time you used black Sharpie for eyeliner in class in seventh grade," Robb says, wiping Jon’s sweaty face with a tissue.
"No," Jon denies, still quite in shock. "It's worse."
"Well," Robb cocks his head, "it doesn't automatically make it the worst. Tell me, little brother, I’m sure we can salvage whatever the situation is."
So Jon tells him the story, stuttering and taking a lot of breaks at first. But he goes on, reiterating a one-minute phone call that sends him running for his brother.
"...he saw Jaime Lannister come out of a coffee shop on his way home," Jon mutters, mentioning the handsome actor he and Robb had a crush on when they were teenagers, and still is in his case. "... And Tormund got me his autograph and a video of him saying hello to me. His phone’s battery is only three percent left, he said, so he couldn’t make a video call, but he’s so excited to show it to me when I’m home. And I did hear the excitement in his voice, Robb, it's as if he’s the one that met his celebrity crush. And I was so happy and touched that I forgot and right before the call ended I said, I said…”
"I love you," Robb continues.
Jon nods.
"So that’s why you came here rushing from… the university library, I suspect? Leaving all your belongings behind?" Robb asks not unkindly, and Jon nods his head once again.
"What should I do, Robb?" Jon laments. It’s bad and hard enough to live with his flatmate with the love he bears for him deeply. How will Jon manage now that the said flatmate knows about it?
"Oh, Jon," Robb sighs. "You’re so smart yet so stupid. Go home now, that’s what you should do, your dissertation can wait till tomorrow. Go home, kiss your man, and have a good time spending the night on his bed. And don’t forget to not give me the details."
Jon gives him a look. "He doesn't feel the same," he replies, though it hurts to say it.
"Of course he does. How come he doesn't fall for someone as kind and wonderful as you? Besides, I’ve met him. And from what I saw that night, he definitely has feelings for you, Jon."
The night Robb refers to is a night around two months ago when Jon brought Tormund to get a drink with Robb, Sansa, and Arya at a pub. The memories of the night are clear in Jon's mind, mostly the ones that involved Tormund. He remembers the amiable way his friend chatted with Arya, answering her curious questions about Free Folk customs and culture. Robb had a great time playing pool with him, and he even charmed Sansa when he complimented her braids. But the one who was most charmed by him that night, Jon's sure, was himself. Tormund fits so perfectly around his family, and Jon's heart ached at the sight of it.
Jon wants to believe Robb, but he finds it hard.
"He literally pulled your chair for you," Robb insists. "I mean, who does that for a mere friend?"
"Well, Tormu-"
"Jon…" Robb cuts him, "You’re in denial, little brother. Don’t do that, you almost sound like you don’t want your feelings reciprocated."
"No. Of course I want him to love me back, it's just that," Jon sighs, running a hand over his face, "even if he does, would I be good enough for him?" He asks himself as much as his brother. Jon doesn’t know for sure what Robb’s answer would be, but his own answer echoes loud and crisp in his head. A simple ‘no’ that has haunted him ever since he realized what exactly the warm sensation that rushes through his veins when he looks at Tormund means.
Feelings, let alone relationships, have never been Jon’s forte. He knows he’s too… timid, let’s say, in that kind of department. He has trouble expressing his feelings vocally, and it does not help that when he feels, he feels so strongly that often it renders him mute.
In all his years, the only real, serious romantic relationship he had was with Ygritte, a girl he dated back when he was an undergraduate student. And it didn't even last that long—only eight months before their relationship was crushed and burned. When people asked, they said it was only because they were not compatible, but Jon knows she found more flaws in him than he did in her.
"Perhaps Rhaegar is right," Jon wonders each time he finds his attempts to have more than friendships or flings fall short; "maybe he is simply too difficult to love."
"Oh, Jon, how could you ask such a stupid question?" the answer that does not come from inside his mind says. Except, it’s not Robb who says it, and Jon’s head jerks in the direction where the familiar but surprising voice is coming from. There, he finds the man who had been the topic of their talk standing by the door. His red mane is a mess, his chest is heaving.
"Hey, little crow," Tormund says, a big smile on his face.
"Tormund!" Jon cries, getting to his feet at once and trudging towards him. "Wh... why are you here?" he stammers. When Tormund arches an eyebrow, Jon changes the question to what he originally wanted to ask but felt too pretentious to voice it unprompted. "How do you know I’m here?"
Tormund’s hands find their way to his arms. "I know you enough to know what would set you up to panic, and what would you do when you’re panicking, little crow," he retorts.
Staring into those blue eyes, Jon doesn't know what to say in reply. He’s baffled and unsure about every aspect of this moment. He also wants to explain what he said, but Tormund, strangely, doesn’t look like he’s in need of an explanation from Jon. In the end, nothing comes out of his mouth except a whisper of, "Oh..."
"You don’t have your phone on you, little crow?" Tormund’s voice is soft and kind, making Jon even more bewildered. His hand goes to his jeans pockets and finds them empty. "Yeah," Jon answers, "I think I accidentally left it when I went here.”
Tormund nods. "Hmm, that’s why you're not answering," his friend says, and a pang of regret hits Jon’s chest. He must have been shocked and left confused, Jon thinks, and ‘I’m sorry,’ is at the tip of his tongue. But before Jon can utter it, Tormund answers him.
"It's alright, little crow, it’s not important. What is important, though, is this..." He pulls his phone out of his leather jacket. "I went home first to get it charged, got fifteen percent, and immediately rode here," Tormund explains unasked. He turns on his phone—his lock screen is a photo of the two of them when they went camping last spring—does some scrolling, opens an app, touches the bottom left part of the screen, and then hands it to Jon as he says, "He was very kind, you know, and I admit, very charismatic. No wonder you like him so much."
Now, Jon is most ardently confused. Did Tormund not hear his confession? Because why does he act so casual, like Jon had not dropped the L word on him on a random Friday noon, out of nowhere? Did Jon even actually say it? No, he did say I love you to Tormund, he’s sure of that. Jon may not have slept enough this past week, but he’s not going crazy. Besides, Tormund commented about him panicking, what reason does he have to think Jon is panicking if not that? But, again, if he heard what Jon said and now he knows, why does he act like this?”
"Tor…" Jon’s mouth slightly hangs open, his head moves up and down, looking between Tormund and the phone in his hand. "I… did you-"
"Hush, Jon. Just watch the video first, alright?"
Jon complies. He looks down and starts the video.
"Hey, Jon," Jaime begins, and a smile is forming on Jon’s lips. He has been so anxious about his accidental confession that he forgot that Tormund literally got him a video of his favorite actor, his fourteen-year-old self’s bi awakening, acknowledging his existence. "Your friend here," the camera pans to Tormund for a moment, who shamelessly winked, "told me that you've been my fan since you were a teenager, and now you’re about to get a Ph.D. in history! That’s so cool, by the way, I wish you good luck. I also want to thank you for your support, it means the world to me."
A giddy laugh escapes Jon’s throat before he can help it. But Jaime in the video is not done yet. "And also," Jaime adds, and there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes, "Tormund asked me to ask you that, would you, perchance, want to go on a date with him? He convinced you would say yes, but just in case, Jon, I think you should say yes. I had known your friend for five minutes, and I had heard so many things about you from him, while the only things I know about him are his name and the fact that he’s in love with you. So... invite me to the wedding?" he requests, before ending the recording with a joyous laugh.
So the video ends, and Jon wastes not a second to put his hand on Tormund’s nape, go standing on his toes, and kiss him.
Tormund meets him halfway.
"I love you," Jon whispers when they finally part, his breath rugged. And oh, how wonderful it is to say it; how easy, now that he knows without doubt Tormund would say it back.
"I know, sweet thing. I love you too," Tormund retorts, just like Jon wishes he would. It makes him so happy that he starts giggling, feeling drunk in ecstasy.
"Thank you," Jon tells Tormund, handing his phone back to him. Tormund kisses his forehead in reply. The older man then asks, "Go on a date with me tonight? I already planned something."
"Confident, aren’t we?" Jon remarks playfully, enjoying their moment.
The moment that, unfortunately, is broken two seconds later by Robb loudly clearing his throat. Jon, to be honest, has forgotten there’s someone in the room beside him and Tormund. He turns halfway around and shoots his brother a look.
"Well, not to say ‘I told you so’, but ummm..." Robb shrugs. "I told you so," he adds, grinning widely.
Jon tells him to fuck off. To which Robb retorts, “Now, little brother, that’s not how you should act when you want permission to go out with your boyfriend," he says teasingly. Jon rolls his eyes, but Tormund nudges him and says, "He’s right, sweetheart, that’s not how you should act right now. Unless you don’t want our first date to be tonight?"
"That’s the first thing you do as my boyfriend?" Jon replies, his tone exasperated, "Teaming up with my brother to mock me?"
"I would never, " Tormund answers, chuckling, and Jon shoves him lightly before he makes his way toward Robb.
Jon pulls Robb into a hug before he can open his mouth. "Thank you," Jon murmurs, hoping his tone can convey just how much he is truly thankful for his big brother. "You’re welcome, Jon," Robb says, holding him in his arms even tighter. And Jon can't remember the last time he felt so loved like this.