Chapter Text
“Oi, nerds!” Above the hustle and bustle of the crowded hallway, a voice calls out to them, “Over here!”
Scra stops, frowns, and looks around the sea of people—some familiar, some from the opposing team’s school. All intimidating.
His gut churns and anxiety climbs.
Not once has he seen this many people in a single space, before. Never had to navigate a crowd like this.
If this is what all school games are like, he’s almost grateful that this is his first. And possibly last.
He leans closer to Ky and basically has to holler to be heard, “Was that Ree?”
Someone collides hard into Ky’s shoulder, sending him bumping into Scra as he shouts back, “Yup.”
“Where?” Even standing on his toes, he can’t see shit. And he’s not even that much shorter than Ky is. A handful of inches, at most.
Leaning in so close his lips graze the shell of Scra’s ear, Ky winds his fingers with Scra’s and rumbles, “This way.”
His knees go weak. Chest fills with the fluttering wings of a thousand butterflies as his heart skyrockets into his throat. A bit numb and entirely focused on Ky and how hot his hand is in his—how their fingers seem to fit together, like his was always the hand he was meant to be holding—he stumbles along behind him. Lets Ky carve a path through people who pat him on the back and clap his shoulder while they wish him a good game.
And while he’s sorta used to it by now, it’s a bit of a punch to the gut that these people who’re all smiles and encouragement for Ky, are the very same people who, if they’re not recycling the same tired insults or fucking with his stuff, actively pretend he doesn’t exist.
“Hey weirdos,” Ree materializes out of the crowd and greets them with a grin; her camera strung around her neck. “About time you two showed up.”
Effortlessly, Ky pulls Scra forward until he’s a little more shielded from the brunt of loose elbows and dropped shoulders that’re being flung around the packed hall. A little more protected by Ky and his broad frame.
He doesn’t release his hand though, as he offers up a sheepish grin. “Sorry, car trouble.”
Scra bites back a laugh at Ky’s unwillingness to elaborate. To admit to Ree that the trouble largely revolves around the fact that, supposedly, his fuel gauge is also temperamental and they ran out of gas a block away.
Ree snorts, shakes her head, “Your car is the biggest piece o-whoa, watch it you little shits!”
“You watch it, dyke.” A particularly flippant first year breaks free from the gaggle of girls tearing through the hall to bark at Ree. She wears an ugly and twisted sneer; gaze slipping from Ree to him, and back, “You’re making people uncomfortable, so why don’t you and your little fa-”
“I would choose your next words very carefully, first year.” It’s as close to a threat as he’s ever heard slip from Ky. Far more menacing than he even thought Ky capable of being.
“Oh,” seamlessly covering up that ugliness—that cruelty that so many deem acceptable to inflict on people like him and Ree—with a beautiful mask, she turns to Ky with a giggle, “Ky, sorry, totally didn’t see you there. Are you so stoked for the game? I bet you are. You’re going to-”
“I’d be more stoked if you apologized to my friend,” he interrupts, tone icy; the hand still holding Scra’s squeezes tightly, “and made a habit not to speak that way to her, or anyone else, like that again.”
The girl’s radiant smile dims. She trills, acting innocent, “I-I’m not sure I-”
“Y’know, actually,” Ree purrs, sizing up the first year and sidling closer, “you’re kinda my type. Blonde, beautiful, and a complete bitc-”
“Eww, s-sorry.” The girl squeaks; hands held up as if in surrender as she melts back into the group of horrified first years. “We’ll, uhm, just-”
“Enjoy the game, gorgeous.” Winking and blowing a kiss, Ree cackles as the girls erupt into a symphony of shrieks and flee down the hall. She sighs, turning back to Ky, “As I was saying, before being rudely interrupted… your car is the biggest—and I mean the most astronomical—piece of shit I have ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on.”
“At least I have a car.” Ky grumbles and steals a glance at Scra. Brows pinch together slightly and he suggests, “Hey, let’s go somewhere a bit quieter, yeah?”
“Please.” It slips out, without him meaning to say anything. Without him meaning to betray just how uncomfortable he is with this many people jostling around him while they scream and shout and judge and-
And this was a mistake. That's all too clear now.
He’s not supposed to be here. Isn’t welcome at events like this.
Never has been. Never will be.
Ky just didn’t know that when he asked and Scra… well he just got so caught up in the idea that Ky was actually asking him out-
No.
Not out.
Fuck.
They’re just friends. Will only ever be friends.
His chest starts to hiccup. Painful bursts from fragile lungs. Head swims. The hallway, lurching and twisting in front of his eyes. Gut, hollow and nauseous. The voices in the hall are a deafening roar.
Hon.
He should call Hon.
Ask if she can come pick him up or-
“Ree?” Ky’s voice is tight; her name, a loaded question. The hand holding his gives a squeeze and Ky’s thumb draws a comforting arc along his knuckles.
“On it.” Gesturing them to follow, Ree turns on her heels and leads them down through the hall towards the back of the school.
Every step thins the crowd, and yet his chest still cracks like ice beneath a boot. Pulse still roars and head is still dizzy.
Ky looks back over his shoulder at him. Offers a fragile smile. “Eyes on me, Scra. Just keep your eyes on me, like you said you would.”
He doesn’t say anything back. Just nods numbly and blindly follows Ky as he leads him deeper into the school; all while people’s hardened stares claw at his back and whispers snap at his heels. His name, a dark stain on people’s tongues; his name, ruining Ky’s…
“Here we are, lovelies.” Ree coos from up ahead. There’s the sound of a heavy bolt sliding home and hinges squeaking. “I give you sanctuary.”
“Why do you have a key to the art room?” Ky says like he’s chastising. Like he’s not surprised but is still disappointed.
“Yearbook committee.” She shrugs and stands to the side, ushering him and Ky inside, before others in the hall take notice of the open classroom. “Now c’mon. We’ve gone and given our poor introvert too much excitement for one day.”
He wants to argue. Wants to say that he’s fine and it’ll pass, but-
“I’m so sorry, Scra.” Ky apologizes as he drags him into the art room; leads him to one of the desks that runs the length of the class. “Even though it’s the final game, and I should’ve known better, I didn’t even stop to think that it might be overwhelming for you and-”
He pauses. Releases Scra’s hand in favour of grabbing hold of his hips. Smoothly, as if he weighs little more than a feather, Ky hoists him up onto the desk. Stands between his thighs as he cups his cheek with one hand; leaves the other on his hip.
“A-And if it’s too much, I can take you home. There’s still a little time left before I gotta go get changed. We can just plan a diff-”
“I’m fine.” Scra chokes; a war brews within him as to whether he’s brave enough to curl into Ky’s touch like he wants to, or smart enough to pull away like he should.
Ky’s frown is disbelieving. Brilliant blue gaze, flooded with concern, “But-”
“But nothing.” His heart mourns and fingers tremble as he reaches up to pull Ky’s hand from his cheek. “It’s a lot of people, yeah, but I’ll be fine. Always am.” Shrugging stiffly, he doesn’t dare look Ky directly in the eye as he murmurs, “And if it gets really bad, I’ll just see if Hon can come get me.”
His name is woven with heartbreak, “Scra-”
“What if you hang with me at the sidelines, away from the crowd?” Ree pipes up. Taps at her camera when both he and Ky turn to her, questioning. “Yearbook perk. I get the best seats in the house.”
“That’d be amazing, Ree.” Heartbreak melts into relief and Ky turns to Scra again. Asks, hopeful, “What do you think? Would that be okay?”
Cheeks warming, he drops his gaze from Ky’s and mumbles. “Probably.”
The hand on his hip squeezes gently. He tries to tease, still a little too rigid and worried to be natural, “I won’t lie, knowing you’ll be right there on the sidelines to cheer me on is making this whole personal cheerleader fantasy that much more real.”
“Yeah, well, I still won’t be in a skirt or waving around pom-poms.” It’s a weak laugh that escapes him, but it’s a laugh nonetheless. Which means his lungs have decided to cooperate. For now.
“I could get you a skirt if you want?” Ree offers, wearing a smug and curious expression as her gaze bounces between him and Ky. “What size are-”
“Ree.” Fuck, he’s going to die of embarrassment. Expire, right here on the spot.
“Naw,” Ky chuckles, warm and wonderful. Eyes casually sauntering down the length of Scra once more, he says, almost to himself, “Hot as that may be, I think this definitely suits him more.”
The blush he’s been trying to suppress explodes across his cheeks and burns in the tips of his ears.
Ree makes a surprised, impressed face and raises her brows at him. Mouths, what can only be, “you sure he’s straight?”
Unfortunately, when there’re some pretty convincing rumours of a girlfriend back home and photos on his socials to back that theory up, Scra’s pretty fucking sure.
Besides, it’s like Neekia said… he’s the poster-boy for what it means to be straight.
Subtly—heart writhing—Scra nods. Ree still doesn’t look convinced.
Seeming to remember himself, Ky blinks a couple times and clears his throat. A delicate shade of pink dusts the swells of his cheeks. “Pom-poms though…”
“We’d have to steal those.” Ree’s grin is mischievous.
“This is my first game,” grateful that his voice comes out stronger than he feels, Scra chuckles, “I’d really rather not be suspended for stealing pom-poms.”
“We’d just be temporarily borrowing them.” Ree says as she begins to rummage through one of the various cupboards in the classroom. “Think of it as making memories.”
“I’m sure I’ll have lots of other memories from tonight, without having to add ‘stealing pom-poms’ to the list.”
“How did I know you were going to say that?” She teases from where she’s shoulder-deep in one of the lower cupboards.
Ky quirks a brow. Puzzles, “Ree, what are you doing?”
“Making memories.” With a victorious-sounding grunt, she emerges from the cupboard with a tube of turquoise-ey paint. Starts shaking it vigorously and nods her chin at the two of them. “If thievery is off the table, then I want a photo of you two for the yearbook.”
His stomach drops—lands somewhere near his feet—while his heart pummels his ribs. He croaks, “I’m not sure-”
“That’s a great idea!” Ky’s grin is dazzling. Big and dopey. Hurriedly, he starts to dig through his pocket for his phone. “Can you take one for me, too?”
Ree snorts and rolls her eyes, “Duh.”
“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Scra rasps, head growing dizzy again.
The whispers from earlier, cycling viciously in his head. Surely, Ky must’ve heard them too. Must know what they were saying. What they were already suggesting.
A photo in the yearbook would only add fuel to the fire and-
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Ky asks, serious and with a hint of hurt.
It’s so difficult to put into words, his fear that Ky’ll be the one on the receiving end of people’s cruelty. That the respect he’s earned so quickly, will rot away into disgust, because of his friendship with Scra.
He whispers, “People might get the wrong idea about us. About you.”
“Let ‘em.” Ree growls.
Ky sighs. Squeezes his thigh. “I don’t care. If anything, I agree with Ree. If people see a photo of us and assume we’re together, let ‘em.” His smile is soft. Damn-near romantic, in how he gazes at Scra. “There are far worse things, than having people think I’m dating my best friend.”
That’s only part of his concern. He groans, “Ky-”
“And if anyone comes after you for it—for anything—send them my way, okay?” Ky reassures, “I’ll deal with them.”
“And you already know I’m going to forever immortalize those homophobic pricks with only the most unflattering of photos in the yearbook.” Ree chimes in, smile supportive and a little vindictive.
He could dig his heels in. Refuse to be in the photo, to try and protect Ky from the ugliness of others, but… but even if he’s worried over how others may react—how they might judge Ky—on a purely selfish level, he wants to have at least one photo with him. One happy memory he can physically hold onto and look back on years down the road.
And a school game does make a convenient excuse. A reason for the photo, that isn’t simply ‘why not’...
Fuck it.
His shoulders relax and he tries on a small smile. Nods at the tube of paint still in Ree’s hand. “If we’re just taking a photo, what the hell’s that for?”
“Face paint.” She says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and squeezes a healthy dollop of it onto her finger. “Without going all mad-scientist and mixing my own, this is as close as we’re gonna get to the school’s primary colour. I’ll retouch it after.” Thoughtfully, she rubs her fingers together, smearing sea-green down her fingertips. “Now the real question is, what do we paint? Obviously, there’s the classic stripes or hand-print, but it’s up to you guys.”
“I’ve got an idea.” Practically vibrating, Ky bounds over to Ree and, after a quick search on his phone, shows it to her. “What about something like this?”
Ree stares at it, then at Ky. Says a bit mystified, “You’re bold, dude. I like it.” A heartbeat later, she’s waving him over, “Scra, c’mere, you’re first.”
“What, uh,” Scra clears his throat and hops off the desk, “what’re we going with?”
“Just get your ass over here?” Ree laughs, “I promise, you’ll love it.”
Not necessarily trusting Ree when it comes to opportunities in which she can meddle, but trusting Ky and the gleeful expression on his handsome face, Scra takes a deep breath and resigns himself to his fate. He bends slightly so Ree doesn’t have to stretch or struggle to reach his cheek. Grumbles, teasingly, “If you paint a dick on my face, I swear to Icarus-”
“I would never.” Gasping as if truly offended, her grin says otherwise. “Now hold still.”
The paint is cold on his skin. Her fingers, surprisingly gentle as she draws what feels to be a lopsided semi-circle.
“Alright,” she says, a hint of excitement to her tone, “your turn, Ky.”
“That’s it?” Scra wonders with a frown. Fights the urge to stick his fingers into the fresh paint, to try and get a sense of what it is he’s got on his face.
“Trust the process, darling.” Ree drawls and turns her attention to Ky. Scolds, “Stoop down, you Goliath. I can’t reach shit when you’re way up there.”
“S-Sorry.” Ky chuckles and does as he’s told. Bends at the waist and turns his cheek to Ree. “Better?”
“Mhmm.” Humming, she draws what can only be the other half to Scra’s semi-circle. Nodding in satisfaction, she trills, “Done.”
“Excellent.” Ky’s grin is wide and contagious.
“What are we,” Scra laughs, poking at Ky’s freshly-painted cheek, “two halves of a whole idiot?”
“Oh, hardy-har.” He says, while genuinely chuckling. Grabbing hold of Scra’s shoulder, turning him to face Ree—who’s currently on the hunt for something to wipe her fingers with—he rumbles, “You’ll see.”
“Alright dorks,” flinging the towel haphazardly on the nearest desk, Ree chews at her lip a moment, then points them to the large mural on the wall at the back of the classroom, “Stand over there and look cute.”
“That’s asking far too much.” Scra sarcastically complains, while doing as he’s told.
“Asking too much of me, perhaps.” Ky hums thoughtfully and, having reached the mural wall, turns back around to face Ree. Rests his hand back on Scra's shoulder; his palm hot where it lays, even through the fabric of his shirt. He whispers, only loud enough for Scra to hear, “You, on the other hand…”
His belly fills with flames. Heart, akin to a rabbit caught in a snare. He matches Ky’s pitch and tone, so Ree won’t overhear. Warns, “This photo’s gonna give people the wrong idea, but if you keep saying shit like that, I’ll get the wrong idea.”
A heavy silence falls between them, while Ree mutters to herself about what settings to use. The fingers still hooked onto his shoulder flex and tremble.
Scra’s chest tightens.
Probably should’ve been nicer about that. Found a better way to tell him that what Ky deems to be casual banter or a harmless compliment, is doing a number on his fragile heart.
“Alright, we’ll get one with my camera, then one with Ky’s phone.” Ree instructs. Points the lens at them. Prompts, “If this is gonna work, you two need to be a hell of a lot closer.”
“You got it, boss.” The hand on Scra’s shoulder gently squeezes and Ky ducks down; presses his cheek, with its cool, wet paint against Scra’s. He rumbles, soft and sincere, “I wouldn’t lie to you, Scra. I mean it.”
“Perfect!” Ree trills and gets into position, “Stay just like that.”
Scra’s head is light. Ears are ringing. Cheeks are, surely, crimson, for how hot his face is.
Ky means it? Means what?
“Say ‘weirdos’!”
Trying to steal a glance at him from the corner of his eye, his breath catches when Ky pulls him in just a little bit closer. There’s the snap of a shutter.
Dazed, and still glued at the cheek with Ky, he blinks at Ree, trying to silently ask her what the fuck is going on.
She just grins at him. Winks.
And then promptly scolds the both of them, “Neither of you said ‘weirdos’ for that last one, but I’ll forgive it this time around, since we’ve got one more to go.”
“Sorry, I was distracted by my other half.” Ky hums; so close, the sound of it rumbles at his back.
“Scra’s cute, I get it.” Ree says, exasperated, “But if ya’ll don’t say ‘weirdos’ this time, maybe I will edit a couple of dicks on your cheeks in post production.”
“Alright, alright,” chuckling in surrender, he asks Scra, “you okay with one more?”
“S-Sure.” He croaks, still not entirely sure what’s going on and why Ky’s being… well, why he’s being a bit over-the-top flirtatious. Even for him. Even after that little warning he gave.
“Okay, here we go.” Ree steadies Ky’s phone and lines up the shot. Starts the countdown, “One-”
“I’m gonna post this before the game.”
“Two-”
His brain misfires. “You’re gonna wha-”
“Three.”
“Weirdos!” Ky bellows. Laughs.
Ree snaps the pic.
Scra’s head reels.
He’s going to post it. Ky’s going to broadcast on socials that they were together before the game. That they're friends outside of school. Outside of a classroom.
The thought alone should have him panicking. Struggling to breathe, while his heart works to turn his ribs to dust, but...
But, if he's totally honest, right now, he couldn’t care less. Doesn’t give a shit what others might think or say or do. Isn't worried about the backlash this might cause for Ky.
Right now, he’s never been happier. He's got Ky by his side and Ree’s support and… and despite there being a few bumps along the way, he’s actually glad he agreed to come tonight. More than that, he's excited for what the rest of the evening might bring.
Far too late to be chiming in, a bubble of laughter works its way up from his lungs and he crows, “Weirdos!”
Ree looks at him like he's got a screw loose. Giggle-snorts, “Yeah, you’re a weirdo alright.”
"Weirdos!" Ky echoes, grinning from ear to ear. He tilts his head back, shouts up at the ceiling, "We're weirdos!"
"Yup, you sure fucking are." Barely containing her laughter, Ree dramatically runs a hand down her face. "Lunatics, too. Icarus, how the fuck did I get lumped in with you guys?"
"Ah, don't say that, Ree," doing his best impression of a wounded puppy, Ky pouts, "you love us."
Expertly ignoring him, she starts to fiddle around with her camera again; admits, almost too soft to hear, "Well yeah, but only 'cause you nerds are too fucking cute for words sometimes."
Tonight is not at all what he was expecting. What he's used to. Not something he ever thought he'd get to—or want to—experience.
But, if it means Ree will be there to laugh with him and be honest when he needs to hear it the most...
If braving events like tonight means he can stay by Ky's side and share in memories he would've otherwise missed...
Then he'll go to every stupid sports game from now until graduation next year. He'll go and he'll laugh and he'll be himself and take silly photos with his friends, because fuck it.
He deserves to be happy, too.