Fic: Turn Into Sunny Days (Bandom, Bob/Ray, FRT)
Title: Turn Into Sunny Days
Author: allyndra
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Pairing: Bob/Ray
Rating: FRT
Length: about 5,000
Disclaimer: Entirely the product of my vivid imagination.
Summary: Ray and Bob’s friends have drama all the time, so no one notices the quiet romance in their midst. High school AU.
Notes:Written for the bandom_calendar and inspired by a prompt at anon_lovefest. Title from Dionne Warwick's Friends in Love.
“What the hell?” Ray tried to shove his backpack under his desk and slide into his seat at the same time. He hadn’t had time to stop at his locker. He had to keep his voice down because Mr. McGrath was taking attendance, but he made sure his glare spoke for him. “My mom had to drive me to the bus stop. Where were you?”
Mikey shrugged. If you didn’t know him, you might think he was being dismissive, but Ray recognized Mikey’s apologetic shrug when he saw it. “Gee decided that right before school was the perfect time to get drunk,” Mikey said out of the corner of his mouth.
Mr. McGrath jerked his head around and glowered at them, which was typical. When Mikey just talked like a normal person, no one ever seemed to hear him, but when he tried to be sneaky about it, teachers were on him in a heartbeat. It was like his anti-super power: complete stealth fail. Ray settled back in his seat and tried to look attentive. When he flicked a glance sideways at Mikey, he got another shrug, and Mikey mouthed the word, “Lunch” at him.
Ray rolled his eyes, but nodded. While Mikey was explaining at lunchtime, he could buy Ray some nachos, too. Some things required reparation, and being left on the curb in the middle of October was one of them.
They usually staked out a low brick wall in front of the school for lunch. On cold days, they sat on the ground with their backs to the wall, sheltering from the wind, and on warm days they lolled on top of it. Frank almost broke his ankle trying to do a balance beam routine on top of it at the beginning of the school year.
Mikey wasn’t there when Ray gets to the wall, but Gerard was. His posture was the kind of loose that meant he was still partly drunk from his morning drinking binge. He gave Ray a sloppy smile that made Ray half want to kick him and half want to tuck him into bed with a glass of water and some aspirin.
“You were supposed to give me a ride this morning,” Ray reminded him, dropping down to sit tailor fashion beside him. He opened his lunch bag grumpily and nearly tore it in half, which just made him more irritated.
Gerard wrinkled his nose. “Were we? I’m sorry, man.” His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were a little glassy, but under that, he looked sincere. “It was just … Monday, you know? Need a little help to face it.”
Frank appeared above them, sitting on the wall so that his feet dangled between them. “You’re like fucking Garfield,” he told Gerard, peering down at him.
“Fucking Garfield would be wrong. He’s a cat.” Frank’s friend Bob climbed up onto the wall, too. He wasn’t that big a guy, but he looked large and out of place hunched next to Frank.
“I could mail Mikey to Abu Dhabi,” Gerard said musingly, like he could actually do it.
“But can you drive me home? That’s what I want to know,” Ray said, emphasizing his point with a thrust of his sandwich. Peanut butter, because they were all out of lunch meat when he packed his lunch this morning.
“What part of ‘Gee was drunk’ do you not get,” Mikey asked, joining them and slouching onto the ground beside his brother. “We couldn’t take the car like that.”
“Well, fuck.” Ray had a band practice after school that would keep him from catching the school bus, and the city bus didn’t stop near his house. His parents would kill him if he got mugged walking home from the bus stop.
“I can give you a ride,” Bob said. Ray craned his neck to look up at him. Frank had been bringing him around for a few weeks now, but Ray didn’t really know him yet. “I’ve got band, too,” Bob added, like Ray needed convincing, “so it’s no big deal.”
Ray saluted Bob with his sandwich. “Thanks. Seriously.”
Bob nodded down at him. His face looked almost serious, with only a hint of smile around the edge of his mouth. Ray wondered what, exactly, the smile is hinting at.
“Okay, so Ray has a babysitter,” Frank said, kicking his feet against the bricks. Ray watched them carefully; he’d been kicked in the head by Frank’s enthusiasm before. “Now we just have to figure out how to get Gee through PE without throwing up on Coach Stahl.”
Bob’s car was just scruffy enough for Ray to feel comfortable in it without fearing for his life or health. Gerard’s car was a lifeline, but Ray was pretty sure some of the food wrappers on its floorboards had been there long enough to start biodegrading. Bob’s had ketchup packets piled up in the cup holder and a few holes in the upholstery, but it was reassuringly free of rotting trash.
Being alone with Bob made Ray acutely conscious that they’d never really talked. It wasn’t silent in the car, thanks to the radio, but it wasn’t like the conversation was rolling, either. Ray fiddled with the zipper to his backpack to distract himself from the awkwardness of it. “Thanks for this,” he said.
He looked up in time to catch a real smile on Bob’s face, way more than a hint. “No problem.” Bob slid his hands on the steering wheel, like he was trying to find just the right place to settle them.
Ray drummed his fingers against his leg. He wished he had something more to say than, “Take the next left,” but his mind was blank. Bob navigated the streets at Ray’s directions, and when he pulled up to the curb, Ray was still trying to think of something interesting to say. He looked out the window at his house and hoisted his backpack up, twisting to look at Bob as he opened his door. “Do you wanna come in? Hang out?”
And bam, there was the smile again. There’s no way the kids at school would think Bob was such a bad ass if they saw the way his face went soft and bright when he smiled. Maybe that was why Bob didn’t do it much. “I can’t,” Bob said. “But I’ll take a rain check.” He said it like he meant it, not like he was just blowing Ray off.
“Okay. I’m going to hold you to it.” Ray meant it, too. He climbed out of the car and gave Bob a little wave before he shut the door.
Bob waited at the curb until Ray got inside the house.
***
Frank had been dragging Bob around with him for a while now, but Ray didn’t really think about the fact that they were friends - really friends the way Ray and Frank and the Ways were - until Frank got in a fight with some of the football players. It was right after school, and Ray was leaning against Bob’s locker, waiting for him and watching the student body spill down the hall. Standing still while crowds swirled around him always felt kind of like being in the middle of a dance number that he didn’t know the choreography to.
He straightened up when he saw Bob coming, but Bob didn’t even slow down. He just stormed past, his face red and his eyes blazing.
“Bob?” Ray pushed off of the locker and followed after him. “What’s going on?”
“Fucking assholes,” Bob replied, loudly and unhelpfully. The hall was full of kids getting their books, talking to their friends, and heading toward the buses and parking lot, but they parted before Bob. It’s not like they were afraid of him, Ray didn’t think. More like he was an implacable force, and it would be pointless to get in his way. Ray trailed in his wake, biting his lip.
Bob led him out behind the school, and toward a cluster of students gathered near the dumpsters. These kids didn’t part to let Bob through, but he shoved his way in, undeterred. There was a tangle of guys at the center of the crowd, twisting and hitting and grunting, and it took a second for Ray’s brain to sort out the arms and legs and recognize Frank and three jocks.
Frank was half on someone’s shoulders, clinging with complete disregard for the way his nails were digging into the guy’s throat. He jerked his head back to thrash into the face of one of his other opponents and kicked out wildly and ineffectively with one foot. He was using his whole body to fight, and Ray was reminded pointlessly of the one-man bands he’d seen on old movies.
Bob didn’t seem to be reminded of anything other than how pissed off he was, because instead of being distracted, he waded right into the fight and punched one of the jocks in the side of the head. “Fucking assholes,” he said again. He wasn’t yelling, but he was loud enough that Ray heard it.
“It's not your fight," one of the jock grunted, elbowing Bob had in the stomach. Ray thought he was maybe the quarterback, and made a mental resolution to never play pep band at a football game again
"Three against one? It fucking well is." Bob punched the guy Frank was clinging to in the jaw, and the guy went down under the weight of Frank's body and Bob's fist. One of the other jocks tried to kick at Frank while he was down, and Bob tackled him into the pile.
For a moment it was a jumbled brawl, too many people on the ground to tell what was happening. Then someone near the edge of the crowd yelled, "Teacher," in a clear voice, and everyone scattered. The spectators, the fighters, everyone. Ray wound up in the art hall, helping Bob half-carry Frank along.
"I'm fine," Frank protested. When they didn't let go, he shrugged them off. "Seriously, I'm fine. What the fuck?"
"It was three against one," Bob said defensively.
"Yeah, and I was totally taking them," Frank smirked. His left eye was red and puffy in the way that meant it was going to be a spectacular black eye soon, there was a cut high on one cheekbone, and his chin bore scrapes from hitting the pavement too roughly.
"Sure, you're a killer," Ray told him, cuffing him lightly on the shoulder. Frank winced.
"Don't kill the killer. Show some respect." Frank leaned against a wall and looked up at Bob. "Thanks, though. Even though I had it covered."
Bob ducked his head. "Whatever." Ray noticed with amusement that his cheeks were flushing pink. Who knew that Bob could blush?
Since they were in the art hall, it was no big surprise when Gerard came wandering past them, a cardboard portfolio clutched in his arms and a thoughtful look on his face. He didn't seem to see them until he'd passed them by, and then he froze. Literally froze with one foot in the air, like he was trying to get a grant from the Ministry of Silly Walks.
He spun around and pointed at Frank. "What happened to you?" he demanded.
"I beat up three football player," Frank told him casually.
"You .... Fuck you, are you okay?" Gerard's eyes were even larger than usual, and his grip on his portfolio slackened until it almost slid out of his hands.
"I'm good," Frank said. And except for his general contused state, he looked pretty fine, smiling at Gerard, reassuring and a little proud. "Anyway, Bob jumped in to rescue me."
Gerard turned his wide eyed gaze on Bob. "I knew I liked you," he said fervently. He wrapped his arms around Bob in a hug, whapping him in the side of the head with the corner of his portfolio.
"Hey!" Frank scowled. "He didn't even do that much."
Gerard released Bob, whose entire face was a delicate shade of pink by now. "I'm just glad he was watching out for you." He took a step toward Frank and reached out a careful hand. "That's going to bruise," he said, ghosting his fingertips over the puffy skin under Frank's eye.
Frank grimaced. "I'd call it a badge of honor or something, but Mom's going to be pissed."
Gerard nodded, first slowly in agreement, and then with a sharp, brisk motion. It was weird to watch. "Come home with me," Gerard said. "My mom has some killer cover up. We'll tone down your badges of honor so you Mom doesn't freak too much."
"Yeah?" Frank smiled.
"Yeah. C'mon." Gerard darted in to hug Bob one more time, and then he took Frank by the arm and pulled him down the hall. Frank didn't look unwilling to go.
"Looks like he's in good hands," Bob said drily.
Ray turned to face him, and felt his breath catch. Bob was still flushed, and his lower lip was split. Ray wished he could reach out and touch, like Gerard did with Frank. "I don't have any makeup, but if you want to come over, I'll give you some ice for that," he offered.
Bob smiled a tiny little smile that didn't pull at his hurt lip. "Deal," he said.
Ray didn't take Bob's arm as they walked back to Bob's neglected locker, but he thought about it.
***
Frank and Gerard were both cuddly little dudes for teenage boys. Ray was used to it, but he’d seen the way Bob used to shy away when he first started coming to movie nights. Even though he wasn’t the one who’d been wearing down Bob’s personal boundaries, he felt kind of proud when he saw Bob sprawled out on the sofa with Frank’s head on one shoulder and Gerard’s on the other.
The fact that he knew full well that Bob had zero interest in Frank and Gerard as anything other than buddies may have contributed to the warm fuzzy of the moment.
Ray carried the popcorn and a giant bag of Cheetos to the sofa and nudged Gerard aside with his knee. “Move. If I sit on the end, you’ll steal all the snacks.”
Gerard heaved a huge, put-upon sigh and shifted over so that Ray could worm his way in between him and Bob. That meant that Ray was pressed up against Bob from shoulder to knee, so close he could feel the seams in Bob’s jeans against his own thigh. Ray felt a little smug about that. He knew how to work the movie night snuggling system.
Mikey came in and plopped himself at Gerard’s feet, barely looking up from his epic text-messaging battle. Ray didn’t know how he could enjoy the movie like that, but maybe he’d seen it enough times that he didn’t care. Personally, Ray thought Legend was worth watching every time it came on, just for Tim Curry, but he couldn’t help being distracted tonight. He could feel it every time Bob took a breath. It made him twitchy, and he jiggled his knee up and down until Gerard forcibly stopped him.
Ray focused on holding himself still, pretending not to notice the way Bob fit against him. He didn’t notice the way Bob licked his lips after he ate a handful of popcorn. He didn’t notice the way Bob flicked little glances at him out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t notice the way Bob’s hand crept over closer to his own, inch by inch, until their fingers were twined, resting right over the place where their legs touched.
Frank and Gerard got in an argument about the symbolism of Lili’s black dress, but Ray didn’t notice.
***
Frank got sick a lot, and that sucked, but what sucked even worse was that their group didn’t hang out as much whenever he was recuperating from his latest plague. Somehow it felt like cheating, like they were stealing the fun from him by having it while he couldn’t. Usually, Ray resigned himself to spending a lot of time alone in his room whenever Frank was sick, playing his guitar and reading to keep himself from dying of boredom.
This time, he wasn’t alone in his room, and he didn’t feel remotely bored.
Bob’s hair lay in ruffled furrows where Ray ran his fingers through it and his lips lay parted and wet where Ray had kissed them, and it was pretty much the most amazing thing ever. Like Bob’s entire body was intent on proving that they’d just done that. That Ray had just done that.
Bob smiled at him, the soft smile that still kept Ray off guard. "What?" Ray asked. Bob reached out and tugged at one of Ray's curls.
"You have sex hair," he said. And then his cheeks went red faster than Ray had ever seen it happen before. "Fuck, you know what I mean."
The smile on Ray's face was unstoppable, and there was a shudder in his chest that he couldn't control. "Yeah, I know." He thought about smoothing Bob's hair, but he didn't want to. He wanted it tousled, just so he could know that he was the cause.
"I like it," Bob said. "Your hair, I mean. Even when you don't have crazy sex hair."
Ray raised an eyebrow. "But it's better when I do?"
"Well." Bob settled one hand at the nape of Ray's neck, sliding his fingers through his hair until they rested right against the base of his skull. Ray could feel the shudders in his chest building, and he was afraid that Bob could feel them. "I like being the one who gave you crazy sex hair."
Ray had to close his eyes for a second, because it was almost too much, knowing that Bob was right here, thinking the same things he was thinking and feeling the same things he was feeling. It was intense and it was scary, and it was utterly amazing. He felt a stab of pity for all those guys who bitched about never knowing what was going on in their girlfriends' head. When Ray opened his eyes, Bob was watching him. Not staring or anything, just watching. Like he liked to look at Ray.
Ray liked to look at Bob, too. He kept his eyes open, kept looking, as he leaned closer and kissed him again. He was starting to learn Bob's mouth, the way it tasted and the way it felt. He wanted to learn more. He wanted to know it by heart, until he could lay awake at night and see this, feel this, taste this with perfect recall. He didn't know if he'd believe it had happened, otherwise.
When they pulled apart, Ray ran his thumb along Bob's jaw line, feeling the beginnings of stubble there. If it had been anyone else, Ray would have felt jealous, since he barely had to shave yet. Since it was Bob, he just enjoyed it, memorizing the sensation.
"What are we going to do when Frank's better and everybody wants to hang again?" Ray asked. If he'd been braver, he would have asked, 'Will you still want to do this when you have better ways to spend your time.'
Bob swallowed. "I guess we'll have to make some time just for us. Right?" He met Ray's gaze squarely and his chin was high, but Ray thought maybe there was a hint of another question under his words, too.
"Right."
Bob smiled, bright and happy. It was a smile Ray had never seen on him before, and it made his heart beat faster. “Right,” Bob agreed.
As Bob pulled him closer, it did feel right. More right than anything Ray had felt in a long, long time.
***
Mikey wasn’t usually a yeller. He was a sulker, and he was a world class glarer, but Ray didn’t think he’d heard Mikey raise his voice more than twice in all the time they’d known each other. Which made it nearly shocking to walk into the Way’s house for movie night and hearing Mikey shouting into his phone.
“I can’t believe you fucking said that!” Mikey was gripping the phone so tightly that his knuckles stood out in sharp relief. "No, you are. No, you are! Fuck you!" He hung up with a sharp jab of his thumb and stood there staring at his phone, looking for all the world like he wanted to throw it at the wall. But yelling or no, it was still Mikeyway, and he spent three quarters of his life on that phone. He finally stuffed it angrily in his pocket.
When he turned around and saw Bob, Ray, and Gerard watching him, his jaw muscles clenched tight. "Pete Wentz can suck my dick," he told them. With his shoulders drawn up nearly to his ears, he turned and stormed up the stairs to his room.
"What happened?" Ray asked, sinking onto the couch next to Gerard. He'd rather have sat next to Bob, but Bob was tucked up against the arm of the couch.
"I think Pete Wentz stopped sucking his dick," Bob said.
Gerard wrinkled his nose. "I don't need to hear that." He rubbed his hands over his face. "But yeah, that seems to be the gist."
Ray patted him on the shoulder. "Break up drama? Really? It's like we're living in the WB." Bob was clearly trying to keep a straight face, but Ray could tell that he wanted to smile.
"I know," Gerard said sadly. "It's so cliché. That almost makes it worse. Like, it's not enough that things suck and make Mikey feel bad, but he has to be lame and mockable at the same time."
"Do you think they're going to get back together?" To be fair, Ray was never certain that Pete and Mikey were together. But most of the time they weren't not together.
Bob shrugged. "Do you think they should? I mean, I think people should be with someone who makes them happy." He looked right at Ray when he said that, and Ray felt his ears go red. He was glad his hair covered them.
"Pete and Mikey make each other happy at least half the time," Gerard pointed out. And it was true. Ray had seen them together, listening to music on shared earbuds, making up ridiculous secret handshakes, arguing about the merits of the graffiti on the walls in the school restrooms.
"Yeah. It just that the other half of the time, they make each other look like emo drama queens," Ray said. Because even though this was the first time he'd heard Mikey yelling at Pete, he'd seen him leveling some impressive sulks and glares in Pete's direction.
Gerard sighed. "Not like it's up to us, anyway." He looked tired and resigned. "I'm going to go see if Mikey wants to talk."
Bob and Ray nodded equably and watched as Gerard dragged himself off the couch and started the slow climb up the stairs. Ray waited a count of five after Gerard was upstairs before he moved closer to Bob.
"Hi," Ray said.
"Hi," Bob replied. His hand drifted over to rest on Ray's arm. Ray leaned into him. He wanted to kiss him, but it felt kind of wrong, what with Mikey having breakup tragedy just one flight away. Bob didn’t seem to be having the same crisis of conscience, because he ducked close and kissed Ray warmly.
After they separated, they just sat for a while. The Way’s house was weird, but it was warm and quiet, and Ray let his mind float. He nearly jumped when Bob finally spoke again. “So you know what Mikey was yelling about? That Pete could suck his dick? You ever think about that?”
Ray was wide awake. Possibly more awake than he’d ever been before. “Sucking Mikey’s dick? Never.” There was a dream once when he was fourteen, but Ray couldn’t be held responsible for his sleeping brain.
Bob smacked him on the back of the head. “Not Mikey’s. Just … in general.” He was staring at the display of candles on the sideboard as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.
Ray took a breath. “Yeah. Yes, I’ve thought about that,” he said quietly.
“That’s good. I’ve thought about that, too.” Bob pulled his eyes away from the candles to meet Ray’s eyes, and then quickly looked back.
“Maybe.” Ray leaned a little closer. “Maybe we could think about that together, sometime.”
Bob bit his lip, which was entirely uncalled for, considering the topic at hand. “Yeah. We should.” He shifted in his seat and tilted toward Ray.
Since they were in the Way’s living room with Mikey and Gerard having a heart-to-heart upstairs, it was probably a good thing that Frank slammed the door open before they could get any closer. “I’m here,” Frank announced. “The party can start.” He stopped and stared at Bob and Ray, sitting alone at one end of the couch with the darkened TV in front of them. “This is even less of a party than I was expecting.”
Ray bobbed his head. “Mikey’s having Pete-issues and Gerard’s trying to help,” he explained.
“Well, fuck. That’s no fun,” Frank said. He walked over to them and dropped himself full body between them, half crushing both Ray and Bob. “I’m cold. If movie night is a bust, you can at least warm me up.” He wiggled down until at least part of his ass was touching sofa, even if most of his weight was still being supported by Bob and Ray.
Ray met Bob’s gaze over Frank’s head, and Bob nodded at him. Being interrupted was okay, because they were okay. They had time.
***
Prom was turning out to be this big epic deal, and Ray didn’t know why. Apparently, Frank and Gerard had decided to double date, which should have been cool. Shared limo, sitting together like lamers while their dates danced … it should have been fine. But a week before prom, Frank started muttering angrily about restaurant choices and Gerard started making bitter remarks about corsages, and the whole thing seemed to blow up.
Mikey wasn’t even a senior yet, but he was caught up in it, too, because he was going with Pete and Pete kept butting into Frank and Gerard’s arguments. He made a point to clarify that he and Pete were just going as friends whenever anyone asked, which made Bob snort.
“They’re going as friends like we are,” he said, lying back on Ray’s bed and shaking his head.
Ray gave Bob his most innocent look. “You mean we’re not? Because I’ve been thinking about all the desperate girls in formal gowns, and-“ He was interrupted be a pillow to the face.
“Dickhead,” Bob said affectionately. “Hey, you wanna go to the game shop?”
So while Gerard and Frank (with Pete and Mikey on the sideline) engaged in round three of the Great Prom Debacle, Bob and Ray played video games, watched movies, and made out in Ray’s room or Bob’s car.
They were going to prom, too, but it just didn’t seem like that big of a deal. They rented tuxes, and Ray’s grandma made them coordinating bow ties from a brocade fabric. Ray’s was red with a black pattern, using the front face of the fabric, and Bob’s was black with red, using the back face. They weren’t stupidly matchy, but they went together. Ray liked that. They were just like him and Bob.
On the night of prom, Bob’s mom took pictures of him and Ray’s mom took pictures of him, and both moms snapped a quick shot of the two boys together. But neither family realized they were going to prom together, so they didn’t have to put up with the fawning attention that Ray knew Frank’s mom was showing to Jamia. Nor the uncomfortable stiffness that Pete’s parents were subjecting Mikey to, no matter how many times Pete and Mikey claimed ‘just as friends.’
Their prom was taking place in the Elk’s Lodge, and the decorating committee had swathed the place in crepe streamers. Ray felt a flare of pity for the Elks, who probably weren’t any fonder of crepe paper than the next guy. Bob and Ray turned in their tickets and got their hands stamped, and they found a table near a wall, away from the dancing.
“So.” Ray ran his fingernails over the cheap tablecloth, watching the faint marks he left behind.
“You want to dance?”
Bob laughed. “No, I think I’m good.”
Ray looked up from the table. Bob’s hair looked faintly green in the weird lights and his tie was crooked. He had a plastic cup full of punch in his hand, and he kept swirling it around and around, like he could magically transform it into something other than knock-off Hi-C. “You are,” Ray agreed.
Around them, kids laughed and argued and stood in line for pictures. Girls tore their dresses and took off their shoes and boys pretended they didn’t feel uncomfortable on the dance floor. Frank and Gerard waved at them from where they danced in a cluster with their dates, and Mikey didn’t wave at them from where he was huddled in a corner with Pete.
A few times someone asked one of them to dance, but Bob and Ray stuck together.
It was a good night.
Author: allyndra
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Pairing: Bob/Ray
Rating: FRT
Length: about 5,000
Disclaimer: Entirely the product of my vivid imagination.
Summary: Ray and Bob’s friends have drama all the time, so no one notices the quiet romance in their midst. High school AU.
Notes:Written for the bandom_calendar and inspired by a prompt at anon_lovefest. Title from Dionne Warwick's Friends in Love.
“What the hell?” Ray tried to shove his backpack under his desk and slide into his seat at the same time. He hadn’t had time to stop at his locker. He had to keep his voice down because Mr. McGrath was taking attendance, but he made sure his glare spoke for him. “My mom had to drive me to the bus stop. Where were you?”
Mikey shrugged. If you didn’t know him, you might think he was being dismissive, but Ray recognized Mikey’s apologetic shrug when he saw it. “Gee decided that right before school was the perfect time to get drunk,” Mikey said out of the corner of his mouth.
Mr. McGrath jerked his head around and glowered at them, which was typical. When Mikey just talked like a normal person, no one ever seemed to hear him, but when he tried to be sneaky about it, teachers were on him in a heartbeat. It was like his anti-super power: complete stealth fail. Ray settled back in his seat and tried to look attentive. When he flicked a glance sideways at Mikey, he got another shrug, and Mikey mouthed the word, “Lunch” at him.
Ray rolled his eyes, but nodded. While Mikey was explaining at lunchtime, he could buy Ray some nachos, too. Some things required reparation, and being left on the curb in the middle of October was one of them.
They usually staked out a low brick wall in front of the school for lunch. On cold days, they sat on the ground with their backs to the wall, sheltering from the wind, and on warm days they lolled on top of it. Frank almost broke his ankle trying to do a balance beam routine on top of it at the beginning of the school year.
Mikey wasn’t there when Ray gets to the wall, but Gerard was. His posture was the kind of loose that meant he was still partly drunk from his morning drinking binge. He gave Ray a sloppy smile that made Ray half want to kick him and half want to tuck him into bed with a glass of water and some aspirin.
“You were supposed to give me a ride this morning,” Ray reminded him, dropping down to sit tailor fashion beside him. He opened his lunch bag grumpily and nearly tore it in half, which just made him more irritated.
Gerard wrinkled his nose. “Were we? I’m sorry, man.” His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were a little glassy, but under that, he looked sincere. “It was just … Monday, you know? Need a little help to face it.”
Frank appeared above them, sitting on the wall so that his feet dangled between them. “You’re like fucking Garfield,” he told Gerard, peering down at him.
“Fucking Garfield would be wrong. He’s a cat.” Frank’s friend Bob climbed up onto the wall, too. He wasn’t that big a guy, but he looked large and out of place hunched next to Frank.
“I could mail Mikey to Abu Dhabi,” Gerard said musingly, like he could actually do it.
“But can you drive me home? That’s what I want to know,” Ray said, emphasizing his point with a thrust of his sandwich. Peanut butter, because they were all out of lunch meat when he packed his lunch this morning.
“What part of ‘Gee was drunk’ do you not get,” Mikey asked, joining them and slouching onto the ground beside his brother. “We couldn’t take the car like that.”
“Well, fuck.” Ray had a band practice after school that would keep him from catching the school bus, and the city bus didn’t stop near his house. His parents would kill him if he got mugged walking home from the bus stop.
“I can give you a ride,” Bob said. Ray craned his neck to look up at him. Frank had been bringing him around for a few weeks now, but Ray didn’t really know him yet. “I’ve got band, too,” Bob added, like Ray needed convincing, “so it’s no big deal.”
Ray saluted Bob with his sandwich. “Thanks. Seriously.”
Bob nodded down at him. His face looked almost serious, with only a hint of smile around the edge of his mouth. Ray wondered what, exactly, the smile is hinting at.
“Okay, so Ray has a babysitter,” Frank said, kicking his feet against the bricks. Ray watched them carefully; he’d been kicked in the head by Frank’s enthusiasm before. “Now we just have to figure out how to get Gee through PE without throwing up on Coach Stahl.”
Bob’s car was just scruffy enough for Ray to feel comfortable in it without fearing for his life or health. Gerard’s car was a lifeline, but Ray was pretty sure some of the food wrappers on its floorboards had been there long enough to start biodegrading. Bob’s had ketchup packets piled up in the cup holder and a few holes in the upholstery, but it was reassuringly free of rotting trash.
Being alone with Bob made Ray acutely conscious that they’d never really talked. It wasn’t silent in the car, thanks to the radio, but it wasn’t like the conversation was rolling, either. Ray fiddled with the zipper to his backpack to distract himself from the awkwardness of it. “Thanks for this,” he said.
He looked up in time to catch a real smile on Bob’s face, way more than a hint. “No problem.” Bob slid his hands on the steering wheel, like he was trying to find just the right place to settle them.
Ray drummed his fingers against his leg. He wished he had something more to say than, “Take the next left,” but his mind was blank. Bob navigated the streets at Ray’s directions, and when he pulled up to the curb, Ray was still trying to think of something interesting to say. He looked out the window at his house and hoisted his backpack up, twisting to look at Bob as he opened his door. “Do you wanna come in? Hang out?”
And bam, there was the smile again. There’s no way the kids at school would think Bob was such a bad ass if they saw the way his face went soft and bright when he smiled. Maybe that was why Bob didn’t do it much. “I can’t,” Bob said. “But I’ll take a rain check.” He said it like he meant it, not like he was just blowing Ray off.
“Okay. I’m going to hold you to it.” Ray meant it, too. He climbed out of the car and gave Bob a little wave before he shut the door.
Bob waited at the curb until Ray got inside the house.
***
Frank had been dragging Bob around with him for a while now, but Ray didn’t really think about the fact that they were friends - really friends the way Ray and Frank and the Ways were - until Frank got in a fight with some of the football players. It was right after school, and Ray was leaning against Bob’s locker, waiting for him and watching the student body spill down the hall. Standing still while crowds swirled around him always felt kind of like being in the middle of a dance number that he didn’t know the choreography to.
He straightened up when he saw Bob coming, but Bob didn’t even slow down. He just stormed past, his face red and his eyes blazing.
“Bob?” Ray pushed off of the locker and followed after him. “What’s going on?”
“Fucking assholes,” Bob replied, loudly and unhelpfully. The hall was full of kids getting their books, talking to their friends, and heading toward the buses and parking lot, but they parted before Bob. It’s not like they were afraid of him, Ray didn’t think. More like he was an implacable force, and it would be pointless to get in his way. Ray trailed in his wake, biting his lip.
Bob led him out behind the school, and toward a cluster of students gathered near the dumpsters. These kids didn’t part to let Bob through, but he shoved his way in, undeterred. There was a tangle of guys at the center of the crowd, twisting and hitting and grunting, and it took a second for Ray’s brain to sort out the arms and legs and recognize Frank and three jocks.
Frank was half on someone’s shoulders, clinging with complete disregard for the way his nails were digging into the guy’s throat. He jerked his head back to thrash into the face of one of his other opponents and kicked out wildly and ineffectively with one foot. He was using his whole body to fight, and Ray was reminded pointlessly of the one-man bands he’d seen on old movies.
Bob didn’t seem to be reminded of anything other than how pissed off he was, because instead of being distracted, he waded right into the fight and punched one of the jocks in the side of the head. “Fucking assholes,” he said again. He wasn’t yelling, but he was loud enough that Ray heard it.
“It's not your fight," one of the jock grunted, elbowing Bob had in the stomach. Ray thought he was maybe the quarterback, and made a mental resolution to never play pep band at a football game again
"Three against one? It fucking well is." Bob punched the guy Frank was clinging to in the jaw, and the guy went down under the weight of Frank's body and Bob's fist. One of the other jocks tried to kick at Frank while he was down, and Bob tackled him into the pile.
For a moment it was a jumbled brawl, too many people on the ground to tell what was happening. Then someone near the edge of the crowd yelled, "Teacher," in a clear voice, and everyone scattered. The spectators, the fighters, everyone. Ray wound up in the art hall, helping Bob half-carry Frank along.
"I'm fine," Frank protested. When they didn't let go, he shrugged them off. "Seriously, I'm fine. What the fuck?"
"It was three against one," Bob said defensively.
"Yeah, and I was totally taking them," Frank smirked. His left eye was red and puffy in the way that meant it was going to be a spectacular black eye soon, there was a cut high on one cheekbone, and his chin bore scrapes from hitting the pavement too roughly.
"Sure, you're a killer," Ray told him, cuffing him lightly on the shoulder. Frank winced.
"Don't kill the killer. Show some respect." Frank leaned against a wall and looked up at Bob. "Thanks, though. Even though I had it covered."
Bob ducked his head. "Whatever." Ray noticed with amusement that his cheeks were flushing pink. Who knew that Bob could blush?
Since they were in the art hall, it was no big surprise when Gerard came wandering past them, a cardboard portfolio clutched in his arms and a thoughtful look on his face. He didn't seem to see them until he'd passed them by, and then he froze. Literally froze with one foot in the air, like he was trying to get a grant from the Ministry of Silly Walks.
He spun around and pointed at Frank. "What happened to you?" he demanded.
"I beat up three football player," Frank told him casually.
"You .... Fuck you, are you okay?" Gerard's eyes were even larger than usual, and his grip on his portfolio slackened until it almost slid out of his hands.
"I'm good," Frank said. And except for his general contused state, he looked pretty fine, smiling at Gerard, reassuring and a little proud. "Anyway, Bob jumped in to rescue me."
Gerard turned his wide eyed gaze on Bob. "I knew I liked you," he said fervently. He wrapped his arms around Bob in a hug, whapping him in the side of the head with the corner of his portfolio.
"Hey!" Frank scowled. "He didn't even do that much."
Gerard released Bob, whose entire face was a delicate shade of pink by now. "I'm just glad he was watching out for you." He took a step toward Frank and reached out a careful hand. "That's going to bruise," he said, ghosting his fingertips over the puffy skin under Frank's eye.
Frank grimaced. "I'd call it a badge of honor or something, but Mom's going to be pissed."
Gerard nodded, first slowly in agreement, and then with a sharp, brisk motion. It was weird to watch. "Come home with me," Gerard said. "My mom has some killer cover up. We'll tone down your badges of honor so you Mom doesn't freak too much."
"Yeah?" Frank smiled.
"Yeah. C'mon." Gerard darted in to hug Bob one more time, and then he took Frank by the arm and pulled him down the hall. Frank didn't look unwilling to go.
"Looks like he's in good hands," Bob said drily.
Ray turned to face him, and felt his breath catch. Bob was still flushed, and his lower lip was split. Ray wished he could reach out and touch, like Gerard did with Frank. "I don't have any makeup, but if you want to come over, I'll give you some ice for that," he offered.
Bob smiled a tiny little smile that didn't pull at his hurt lip. "Deal," he said.
Ray didn't take Bob's arm as they walked back to Bob's neglected locker, but he thought about it.
***
Frank and Gerard were both cuddly little dudes for teenage boys. Ray was used to it, but he’d seen the way Bob used to shy away when he first started coming to movie nights. Even though he wasn’t the one who’d been wearing down Bob’s personal boundaries, he felt kind of proud when he saw Bob sprawled out on the sofa with Frank’s head on one shoulder and Gerard’s on the other.
The fact that he knew full well that Bob had zero interest in Frank and Gerard as anything other than buddies may have contributed to the warm fuzzy of the moment.
Ray carried the popcorn and a giant bag of Cheetos to the sofa and nudged Gerard aside with his knee. “Move. If I sit on the end, you’ll steal all the snacks.”
Gerard heaved a huge, put-upon sigh and shifted over so that Ray could worm his way in between him and Bob. That meant that Ray was pressed up against Bob from shoulder to knee, so close he could feel the seams in Bob’s jeans against his own thigh. Ray felt a little smug about that. He knew how to work the movie night snuggling system.
Mikey came in and plopped himself at Gerard’s feet, barely looking up from his epic text-messaging battle. Ray didn’t know how he could enjoy the movie like that, but maybe he’d seen it enough times that he didn’t care. Personally, Ray thought Legend was worth watching every time it came on, just for Tim Curry, but he couldn’t help being distracted tonight. He could feel it every time Bob took a breath. It made him twitchy, and he jiggled his knee up and down until Gerard forcibly stopped him.
Ray focused on holding himself still, pretending not to notice the way Bob fit against him. He didn’t notice the way Bob licked his lips after he ate a handful of popcorn. He didn’t notice the way Bob flicked little glances at him out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t notice the way Bob’s hand crept over closer to his own, inch by inch, until their fingers were twined, resting right over the place where their legs touched.
Frank and Gerard got in an argument about the symbolism of Lili’s black dress, but Ray didn’t notice.
***
Frank got sick a lot, and that sucked, but what sucked even worse was that their group didn’t hang out as much whenever he was recuperating from his latest plague. Somehow it felt like cheating, like they were stealing the fun from him by having it while he couldn’t. Usually, Ray resigned himself to spending a lot of time alone in his room whenever Frank was sick, playing his guitar and reading to keep himself from dying of boredom.
This time, he wasn’t alone in his room, and he didn’t feel remotely bored.
Bob’s hair lay in ruffled furrows where Ray ran his fingers through it and his lips lay parted and wet where Ray had kissed them, and it was pretty much the most amazing thing ever. Like Bob’s entire body was intent on proving that they’d just done that. That Ray had just done that.
Bob smiled at him, the soft smile that still kept Ray off guard. "What?" Ray asked. Bob reached out and tugged at one of Ray's curls.
"You have sex hair," he said. And then his cheeks went red faster than Ray had ever seen it happen before. "Fuck, you know what I mean."
The smile on Ray's face was unstoppable, and there was a shudder in his chest that he couldn't control. "Yeah, I know." He thought about smoothing Bob's hair, but he didn't want to. He wanted it tousled, just so he could know that he was the cause.
"I like it," Bob said. "Your hair, I mean. Even when you don't have crazy sex hair."
Ray raised an eyebrow. "But it's better when I do?"
"Well." Bob settled one hand at the nape of Ray's neck, sliding his fingers through his hair until they rested right against the base of his skull. Ray could feel the shudders in his chest building, and he was afraid that Bob could feel them. "I like being the one who gave you crazy sex hair."
Ray had to close his eyes for a second, because it was almost too much, knowing that Bob was right here, thinking the same things he was thinking and feeling the same things he was feeling. It was intense and it was scary, and it was utterly amazing. He felt a stab of pity for all those guys who bitched about never knowing what was going on in their girlfriends' head. When Ray opened his eyes, Bob was watching him. Not staring or anything, just watching. Like he liked to look at Ray.
Ray liked to look at Bob, too. He kept his eyes open, kept looking, as he leaned closer and kissed him again. He was starting to learn Bob's mouth, the way it tasted and the way it felt. He wanted to learn more. He wanted to know it by heart, until he could lay awake at night and see this, feel this, taste this with perfect recall. He didn't know if he'd believe it had happened, otherwise.
When they pulled apart, Ray ran his thumb along Bob's jaw line, feeling the beginnings of stubble there. If it had been anyone else, Ray would have felt jealous, since he barely had to shave yet. Since it was Bob, he just enjoyed it, memorizing the sensation.
"What are we going to do when Frank's better and everybody wants to hang again?" Ray asked. If he'd been braver, he would have asked, 'Will you still want to do this when you have better ways to spend your time.'
Bob swallowed. "I guess we'll have to make some time just for us. Right?" He met Ray's gaze squarely and his chin was high, but Ray thought maybe there was a hint of another question under his words, too.
"Right."
Bob smiled, bright and happy. It was a smile Ray had never seen on him before, and it made his heart beat faster. “Right,” Bob agreed.
As Bob pulled him closer, it did feel right. More right than anything Ray had felt in a long, long time.
***
Mikey wasn’t usually a yeller. He was a sulker, and he was a world class glarer, but Ray didn’t think he’d heard Mikey raise his voice more than twice in all the time they’d known each other. Which made it nearly shocking to walk into the Way’s house for movie night and hearing Mikey shouting into his phone.
“I can’t believe you fucking said that!” Mikey was gripping the phone so tightly that his knuckles stood out in sharp relief. "No, you are. No, you are! Fuck you!" He hung up with a sharp jab of his thumb and stood there staring at his phone, looking for all the world like he wanted to throw it at the wall. But yelling or no, it was still Mikeyway, and he spent three quarters of his life on that phone. He finally stuffed it angrily in his pocket.
When he turned around and saw Bob, Ray, and Gerard watching him, his jaw muscles clenched tight. "Pete Wentz can suck my dick," he told them. With his shoulders drawn up nearly to his ears, he turned and stormed up the stairs to his room.
"What happened?" Ray asked, sinking onto the couch next to Gerard. He'd rather have sat next to Bob, but Bob was tucked up against the arm of the couch.
"I think Pete Wentz stopped sucking his dick," Bob said.
Gerard wrinkled his nose. "I don't need to hear that." He rubbed his hands over his face. "But yeah, that seems to be the gist."
Ray patted him on the shoulder. "Break up drama? Really? It's like we're living in the WB." Bob was clearly trying to keep a straight face, but Ray could tell that he wanted to smile.
"I know," Gerard said sadly. "It's so cliché. That almost makes it worse. Like, it's not enough that things suck and make Mikey feel bad, but he has to be lame and mockable at the same time."
"Do you think they're going to get back together?" To be fair, Ray was never certain that Pete and Mikey were together. But most of the time they weren't not together.
Bob shrugged. "Do you think they should? I mean, I think people should be with someone who makes them happy." He looked right at Ray when he said that, and Ray felt his ears go red. He was glad his hair covered them.
"Pete and Mikey make each other happy at least half the time," Gerard pointed out. And it was true. Ray had seen them together, listening to music on shared earbuds, making up ridiculous secret handshakes, arguing about the merits of the graffiti on the walls in the school restrooms.
"Yeah. It just that the other half of the time, they make each other look like emo drama queens," Ray said. Because even though this was the first time he'd heard Mikey yelling at Pete, he'd seen him leveling some impressive sulks and glares in Pete's direction.
Gerard sighed. "Not like it's up to us, anyway." He looked tired and resigned. "I'm going to go see if Mikey wants to talk."
Bob and Ray nodded equably and watched as Gerard dragged himself off the couch and started the slow climb up the stairs. Ray waited a count of five after Gerard was upstairs before he moved closer to Bob.
"Hi," Ray said.
"Hi," Bob replied. His hand drifted over to rest on Ray's arm. Ray leaned into him. He wanted to kiss him, but it felt kind of wrong, what with Mikey having breakup tragedy just one flight away. Bob didn’t seem to be having the same crisis of conscience, because he ducked close and kissed Ray warmly.
After they separated, they just sat for a while. The Way’s house was weird, but it was warm and quiet, and Ray let his mind float. He nearly jumped when Bob finally spoke again. “So you know what Mikey was yelling about? That Pete could suck his dick? You ever think about that?”
Ray was wide awake. Possibly more awake than he’d ever been before. “Sucking Mikey’s dick? Never.” There was a dream once when he was fourteen, but Ray couldn’t be held responsible for his sleeping brain.
Bob smacked him on the back of the head. “Not Mikey’s. Just … in general.” He was staring at the display of candles on the sideboard as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.
Ray took a breath. “Yeah. Yes, I’ve thought about that,” he said quietly.
“That’s good. I’ve thought about that, too.” Bob pulled his eyes away from the candles to meet Ray’s eyes, and then quickly looked back.
“Maybe.” Ray leaned a little closer. “Maybe we could think about that together, sometime.”
Bob bit his lip, which was entirely uncalled for, considering the topic at hand. “Yeah. We should.” He shifted in his seat and tilted toward Ray.
Since they were in the Way’s living room with Mikey and Gerard having a heart-to-heart upstairs, it was probably a good thing that Frank slammed the door open before they could get any closer. “I’m here,” Frank announced. “The party can start.” He stopped and stared at Bob and Ray, sitting alone at one end of the couch with the darkened TV in front of them. “This is even less of a party than I was expecting.”
Ray bobbed his head. “Mikey’s having Pete-issues and Gerard’s trying to help,” he explained.
“Well, fuck. That’s no fun,” Frank said. He walked over to them and dropped himself full body between them, half crushing both Ray and Bob. “I’m cold. If movie night is a bust, you can at least warm me up.” He wiggled down until at least part of his ass was touching sofa, even if most of his weight was still being supported by Bob and Ray.
Ray met Bob’s gaze over Frank’s head, and Bob nodded at him. Being interrupted was okay, because they were okay. They had time.
***
Prom was turning out to be this big epic deal, and Ray didn’t know why. Apparently, Frank and Gerard had decided to double date, which should have been cool. Shared limo, sitting together like lamers while their dates danced … it should have been fine. But a week before prom, Frank started muttering angrily about restaurant choices and Gerard started making bitter remarks about corsages, and the whole thing seemed to blow up.
Mikey wasn’t even a senior yet, but he was caught up in it, too, because he was going with Pete and Pete kept butting into Frank and Gerard’s arguments. He made a point to clarify that he and Pete were just going as friends whenever anyone asked, which made Bob snort.
“They’re going as friends like we are,” he said, lying back on Ray’s bed and shaking his head.
Ray gave Bob his most innocent look. “You mean we’re not? Because I’ve been thinking about all the desperate girls in formal gowns, and-“ He was interrupted be a pillow to the face.
“Dickhead,” Bob said affectionately. “Hey, you wanna go to the game shop?”
So while Gerard and Frank (with Pete and Mikey on the sideline) engaged in round three of the Great Prom Debacle, Bob and Ray played video games, watched movies, and made out in Ray’s room or Bob’s car.
They were going to prom, too, but it just didn’t seem like that big of a deal. They rented tuxes, and Ray’s grandma made them coordinating bow ties from a brocade fabric. Ray’s was red with a black pattern, using the front face of the fabric, and Bob’s was black with red, using the back face. They weren’t stupidly matchy, but they went together. Ray liked that. They were just like him and Bob.
On the night of prom, Bob’s mom took pictures of him and Ray’s mom took pictures of him, and both moms snapped a quick shot of the two boys together. But neither family realized they were going to prom together, so they didn’t have to put up with the fawning attention that Ray knew Frank’s mom was showing to Jamia. Nor the uncomfortable stiffness that Pete’s parents were subjecting Mikey to, no matter how many times Pete and Mikey claimed ‘just as friends.’
Their prom was taking place in the Elk’s Lodge, and the decorating committee had swathed the place in crepe streamers. Ray felt a flare of pity for the Elks, who probably weren’t any fonder of crepe paper than the next guy. Bob and Ray turned in their tickets and got their hands stamped, and they found a table near a wall, away from the dancing.
“So.” Ray ran his fingernails over the cheap tablecloth, watching the faint marks he left behind.
“You want to dance?”
Bob laughed. “No, I think I’m good.”
Ray looked up from the table. Bob’s hair looked faintly green in the weird lights and his tie was crooked. He had a plastic cup full of punch in his hand, and he kept swirling it around and around, like he could magically transform it into something other than knock-off Hi-C. “You are,” Ray agreed.
Around them, kids laughed and argued and stood in line for pictures. Girls tore their dresses and took off their shoes and boys pretended they didn’t feel uncomfortable on the dance floor. Frank and Gerard waved at them from where they danced in a cluster with their dates, and Mikey didn’t wave at them from where he was huddled in a corner with Pete.
A few times someone asked one of them to dance, but Bob and Ray stuck together.
It was a good night.