Chapter Text
He’s been here for seven weeks. They only shared one class but they were quick to find a place and time to meet and blabber. They’d sit in the back of the cafeteria and manage to block out the “generation of tomorrow” yelling about Roe V. Wade. The two were quick to bond. Even though both were impulsive and inconsistent; they kept finding each other. A brutal argument absolved the next day. Sadly for Clay, these arguments never got physical. He supposed there was some comfort in not being hurt by someone. Sure as Hell wasn’t the original intent, but hey, this seemed alright.
They stand too goddamn close. In the cafeteria, their legs brush up against each other when they go to sit down! Under the stairs, Stopframe practically holds Clay's shoulder the entire conversation. But man, maybe that's just a trick of the light? Maybe they were a normal distance apart? In their defense it was 1974, two men not degrading women together was enough to quirk a brow. Even the flamboyant fashion of the time would soon be ripped to shreds… and while they practically cradled each other, they also broke down women… so it evened out.
(Danielle would do the degrading and insistent critiquing. Clay never stopped these conversations from happening).
Still, those rumors never got quieter. It was easier to assume than to ask. Besides, they felt they had their answer. Evidence being in the back of the cafeteria and underneath the stairs between classes when they seemed a little too close and a little too touchy.
Danielle proved his athleticism in no time. He was starting to get comfortable in his new surroundings and rose to popularity. Of course the athlete from across the country would be invited everywhere and become the center of attention. He was tall, he was handsome, and he was strong. He would've been so perfect if there wasn't a little freak on his back. It would've been easier to not have Clay as a friend or whatever they are! The whole school was full of people who weren’t Clay! Poor Stopframe didn't seem to have any other friends. Whether or not Puppington had a hand in that doesn't even need to be debated.
(The two got into an argument about it. The next day it was resolved).
The one area that did the most damage to their mutual affections was PE. Obviously, Clay was not built for anything besides walking from point A to point B. No one could really see how thin he was under his sweater. No one (but one) wanted to find out. His wrists seemed to suggest an almost praying mantis thin underneath. Was this due to a high metabolism? The more likely answer could be inference-d from him not eating lunch. Further supported by his unwillingness to look in mirrors or general reflective surfaces. Ohh, but Danielle was what came to mind when thinking of a toxic athlete. He ate like a normal teenager and not like he was training for hours a day and it showed, for better and for worse… maybe they were more similar than previously thought?
To say their similar differences caused tension in the gym would be an understatement. It started even before the game with Danielle refusing to have Clay on his team. All signs of tolerance for each other were disposed of. Everything got too heated too quickly.
“I want actual athletes,” he said one day. “I play to win.”
Clay was not someone you pick to win. He had a great arm but terrible aim. He broke the ceiling light one day when things were getting too serious. He had to write a five page paper on inflation as an apology. Didn’t show up for two days, came back with a bruised cheek, happier than ever. Danielle was almost stabbed when the aforementioned ceiling light shattered that day. He was infuriated but turned into a void when Clay didn’t show up. It was like nothing happened when he returned.
Resentment had been building and it started to leak outside the gymnasium. It would start to show in the cafeteria, under the stairs and walking passed each other. A tight, disgusting, phlegm-y heartburn refusing to let up. Frustration that would somehow grow just by seeing the guy. Any place and any time. It didn’t help when Danielle got popular. He had other friends now.
(Shockingly, never settling their argument about Danielle daring to have a life outside of him had led to both being angry and confused).
The time they’d spend together had been cut in half. It became none when Clay stopped showing up. Again.
___
Every minute Clay didn’t walk into class Stopframes' stomach would cramp. Pathetic. He had an entire school wanting to be around him but he was stuck on some guy. He was just a boy! Some boy doing more harm than good. But that was everyone else's perspective, not Danielle's. ‘He’s not a boy… he’s a man.’ He thought. Uncertainty was his driving factor right now. Made him nauseous and somehow only made him train harder. More aggressive and reckless on the football field.
When the bell rang for sixth, he held his head in his hands. Felt like his brain was too big for his skull. It’s been harder to get up. All he could do was keep going. His father would have his head if he didn’t; maybe that’d be for the best. He wobbled up and out of seat 15.
“Stopframe, can I talk to you for a minute?” Her voice was kind, yet it was still a demand rather than a request. He stopped moving. Kept shaking. It felt sickening to stay still. That familiar, burning ache as he stood in place. Mrs. Graf tapped her desk and he trembled over. “I’m concerned for you, Stopframe.”
He stared at her. No discernible expression on his face. “How blunt.”
“There’s no dancing around it. Is it because your friend has been gone? That’s what it looks like.”
His name is Clay. “No.”
“What is it then?”
“I’ve been missing my dad.” He shuffled uncomfortably.
“Why are you lying to me?” She looked concerned but there was annoyance written in her creased brow. He stayed quiet. “You can’t let him going in and out stop you from functioning. Academics and athletics are more important than one boy I can assure you.” She leaned back and mumbled to herself. “I wish someone would’ve told me that.”
“He’s not just some boy.” He muttered to himself. Thought she didn't hear it.
“Whatever labels you group yourselves under it’s codependent. It’s not good for either of you kids.”
We’re practically adults. Danielle started to zone out. “Mhm.”
“And furthermore, you can’t keep going like this—” She kept talking but he was done listening. The ringing in his ears intensified each moment he didn’t break her nose. A familiar feeling under his ribcage. Her mouth kept moving. Her “concern” didn’t seem to stop. “I bet so much on your game! If you continue down this make-believe route of caring then I’m going to lose—” She snapped her mouth shut. Ah, there was the true concern. He didn’t necessarily zone back in when he was proven right about her ulterior motives. She broke eye contact. Hesitance on her face but she finally grabbed a pen and ripped a piece of paper from her notebook. Her handwriting, a horrendous cursive.
“Please don’t tell anyone about this. I really need this job…and that money.” She extended the piece of paper. He sighed as he took it. His eyes couldn't help but widen as he decoded her handwriting.
667 Bluebird Dr., Sinville.
“If anyone asks, say that's is his fathers handwriting.” Did she just… give him another student's address? Hooollllyyyy shit. He couldn't be happier. He’s never even heard of it. Hard to believe such a devout protestant lived anywhere near Sinville. Oh, how sheltered he must’ve been. Students from period three were starting to trickle in. Soon the bell would ring again and he should be in his third.
Should.
___
“Alright, alright! Give me a second!” The banging finally stopped. He straightened his sweater before opening the door. Clay was met with a familiar face. A very red, tired, angular, familiar face. His eyes went wide. Biting the inside of his cheek.
“Where have you been?”
“Why are you at my house?” Puppington almost seemed excited.
“I asked my question first.”
“How do you know where I live?”
“Not now! Have you just been at home this whole time?”
“Yes I—Yes I have.” He started fidgeting with his hands. There was a spark in his eyes.
“Are you sick? Are you alright? Are you hurt? Are you—”
“Can I get a word in!?” Clay cut him off and let out a frustrated sigh. The other put his hands in the air signalling compliance. Puppington leaned on the door frame. Stopframe bit his chapped lips and looked down. His clothes were sticking to his skin. Yuck.
“You—”
“Shut up!” Danielle did as he was told and started to sway on his heels as they stood there. “Isn’t it fourth right now?” Danielle nodded silently.
“It was sixth when I left. I don’t know how much time has passed—”
“How’d you get here? Did you hitchhike?”
“I’m not dumb enough to hitchhike.” He mumbled to himself but Clay looked more alert. He took in the sweaty hair, glistening skin, red face and the sound of him faintly trying to catch his breath.
“Danielle…” His voice broke but Danielle thought it was best to not point that out right now, “Did you run here?”
He took a moment to think about it. He was already at his house. Blaming the wind wouldn’t help. Would admitting he spent nearly an hour interval running to his house be too concerning? Clay stared at him as Danille stayed dead silent.
“Danielle…” Dammit. The silence answered for him. “You can’t be serious.” Clay crossed his arms across his chest. He often tried to seem bigger than he was. Always to no avail. He always thought it worked because no one talked to him (he was a loser) and no one would mess with him (he would make it weird).
“Isn’t that like—flattering though?” His attempt at trying to save his nonchalant facade was crumbling. Clay was thinking about it. Maybe being nonchalant only hurt his chances at wanting to be a close friend to begin with? Maybe running 45 minutes to your boy best friend's house is the move to make? Clay let his arms fall to his sides as he looked down the road leading to his house. He inhaled as he looked back to Stopframe.
“You uhm…want some water?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright. Come on in.” He sighed. There was uncertainty but he still gestured for him to come inside. Danielle stepped in without a second thought. The sun had been beating down on him for too long. He heard the squealing of the door closing behind him. But not the sound of the lock clicking.
“I have to admit: I wasn’t expecting you to be living in Sinville.”
“Ha…yeahh.” He was still unsure about this whole ordeal. He cleared his throat, “I’m not close to the city. I’m nowhere near those hooligans.” He walked into the kitchen and got a glass from the top cupboard above the sink. Danielle wasn’t sure where to stand. Sitting felt too intimate. This was only the first visit. He looked around before swaying on his heels again, but the hard wood floor squeaked and he immediately stopped. He looked over to Clay and noticed there was nothing different about what he would wear here and what he would wear at school.
“Do you just walk around the house in that?”
“What? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“I just expected you to be wearing something less goody two-shoes in your own home.” Danielle put his hands on his hips but that didn’t feel right so he held his own hands. That didn’t feel right either. “Don’t you own sweatpants or something?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I just don’t want to.” He turned on the sink and filled the glass. “Is that wrong?” Danielle bit his tongue. His best friend drank sink water and didn’t own sweatpants. He turned the faucet off.
“Do you not have a water filter?” He mumbled. Almost thought Clay couldn’t hear.
“Do you want the water or not?” He was irritated but still tried to offer him the glass.
“Do you have anything else to drink?”
“Oh for crying out loud!” He put the glass on the counter “You run to my house and then get pissy when I don't have a water filter?!” Clay has always been animated. Exaggerated everything. From gestures, to expressions to his stories. He huffed as he ran his fingers through his hair “...We’ve got Capri-Suns.”
“That’s acceptable.”
“Acceptable? Go have your acceptable drink then.”
Danielle stood there. “Is it just in the fridge?”
“Where else would it be?” Clay snatched the glass of tap water and started sipping. In an effort to seem in control, Stopframe walked into the kitchen. Straight posture, head held high, unafraid to take up space. Clay only glared at him. Danielle wasn't worried about having his back to him, in spite of that, he felt new beads of sweat on the back of his neck. This was not how he envisioned this at all. Where was his applause and his damsel in distress? Well… damsel in sad distress not angry distress! This was ridiculous! He almost felt embarrassed. He almost felt vulnerable.
“Why uhm,” Clays voice was almost scratchy, “Why do you never pick me for your team?” He had his eyes to the ground. Danielle stopped in front of the fridge.
Danielle turned his head towards him. “Is that why you’ve been absent?”
“No.” He easily lied. “But it's no secret I’m not an athlete and rather unpleasant to be around.”
“I wouldn’t say you’re unpleasant to be—”
“Oh! So you think I’m not athletic?!” The brunette's voice cracked when he started yelling. Danielle couldn't help but flinch.
“You just said—”
“You’re not supposed to agree with me Danielle!”
Danielle raised his hands in front of him. “Calm down!” He paused for a moment. “You’re acting like a girl.” He chuckled a bit before seeing that Clay was teetering on punching him in the stomach.
“Fuckin’ excuse you? You have a girls name!” He took a step forward.
“It’s gender neutral!” Danielle steadied himself by putting his left leg back.
“That’s not a thing!” Puppington kept eye contact. This time, Danielle didn’t say anything back. Clay took a step back to where he was before and crossed his arms across his chest. Danielle slowly began to put his hands down. He was as confused as anyone would’ve been in this situation. It changed too fast. It was always too fast. Clay leaned back on the counter, looked at the ground. It got quiet again. This boy was going to destroy him.
The fighting and the lying had been the routine for the last week. He was tired of guessing which words would set him off and tired of these friendship tests Puppington would put him through. He was right there, by his side. Isn't that friendship enough? It's not like he even had another friend to compare his behavior too. He made sure of that! Why was he doing this to him? Why was this sooooo important? Why did he have to keep guessing? Why can't he be outright? Tell me what's wrong!
“The uhm—” Clay cleared his throat and looked back up at Danielle. “Everyone seems to like the orange flavor best.” He gestured to the fridge. Danielle nodded as he opened the fridge. He felt eyes on the back of his head as he reached for the lemon Capri-Sun.
“I like lemon more.” He was about to close the fridge. “Do you want one? Throat must be sore from yelling.” He chuckled to himself. Clay wasn't amused.
“Yeah.”
“Orange?”
“Yep.” Clay nodded his head and straightened his posture. Danielle closed the fridge and shuffled over with their drinks. Puppington carefully grabbed his and stabbed a hole with the straw through the bottom. Stopframe knitted his brows.
“That looks so much easier.”
“Hm?” He looked up at him.
“Nothing.”
“What? No. Now you have to tell me.” A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
“It’s not that interesting.” Danielle shook his head.
“Oh alright.” Clay let out an awkward laugh. He continued sipping through the flimsy straw. Danielle flipped the Capri-Sun over and stabbed the straw through the bottom. He nibbled his bottom lip for a moment before speaking up.
“In freshman year I would have to wash my clothes whenever I opened these. I didn’t know you could just flip them over and do it that way. So, I’d make a mess.” Stopframe mumbled. He didn’t think Clay had even heard him until he heard a compressed chuckle from the boy next to him. He looked over.
“Happens to the best of us.” He grinned and Danielle's face couldn't help but brighten. He wanted to keep this going. He had to. He didn’t know how long this pleasantly awkward mood would last.
“And since my favorite flavor was lemon, the yellow—”
“Danieellleee noo.” He continued quietly laughing to himself. He could probably guess where the story was going but that didn’t stop Danielle from continuing.
“Danielle, yes.” He chuckled before continuing. “And so I would have to walk back to my room looking like I had an actual pissing contest.” He found himself laughing too. Clay had tried to hold back his smile but failed.
“That’s so awful.” Clay smiled into the back of his hand. “How long of a walk back to your room was it?”
“It took a couple of minutes.” He remembered it. Not fondly. Nevertheless, Clay was amused. While Clay was laughing he squeezed the Capri-Sun a little too hard and the juice had squirted out. He flinched as he felt it go on his sweater and face
“Oh Christ!” It certainly took him off guard. Danielle stopped leaning on the counter, now standing up straight. He didn’t expect blasphemy from him but pointing that out would put them back to where they were before. “Awh… man.” He looked down and started to turn red. “Good thing it wasn't lemon…” He laughed to himself but he avoided eye contact. He turned on his heel before stopping and turning back to Danielle.
“I’m going to take a quick shower and do a load of laundry. When I get out would you like to get in after me orr? Well—” He looked at Danielle again. “You probably need to go in before me huh?” Danielle was a little offended.
“I don’t have any clean clothes to change into. These are the ones I came with an—”
“I swear, by the time you get out they will be clean. Worst case scenario you just wear my dads stuff as you wait for yours to be done. You can’t lose.”
“...You think I’m showering here?” He grimaced. “You think I’m going to wear your dads clothes?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were so adamant on staying sweaty and uncomfortable.” Clay rolled his eyes but stayed in the same spot. It was true, the fabric was sticking to Danielle and was starting to get cold.
He sighed. “Can I go in first?” Clay gave a smug smile.
____
“I told you they’d be done.” Puppington came out to the living room with a smile. Still wearing clothes you’d expect to see at a business casual. While he was in the shower Danielle made the fatal mistake of sitting down on the couch. No way in Hell he was about to get back up. He did feel infinitely better but stayed silent as to not admit defeat. He couldn't help but notice the eucalyptus and sea salt scent that stuck to his skin. Not necessarily a bad combination. He smelled like him now. Clay's smile faltered at the lack of a response. Danielle didn’t really feel that sorry.
“So…are we good?” Stopframe looked up at him. These will be the only moments he could see him from this angle. His low cheekbones and hooded eyes were more noticeable down here. He doubted Clay would get taller after graduation. Best to savor this.
“I uhhh I guess.” Uncertainty in his tone. The corners of his mouth twitched. That wasn’t a guarantee at all. Danielle bit his tongue and looked around. He inhaled.
“If it’s athleticism you’re worried about… I could coach or train you or something?" He couldn't make eye contact with Clay as the words came out of his mouth. “I mean it's not like you’re unathletic. You have a great arm. But maybe we work on aim? Along with…other stuff." He swore he saw Clay's eyes twitch when aim was brought up.
“You sound like you’re scared.” Clay turned his gaze towards him. An unreadable expression.
In a way. “No.” Daneille hesitantly pulled the throw on top of him. Clay watched him intently. Didn't dig into it further.
“Hypotehtically, if I did do all the training and stuff, would you pick me for your team?”
“Y—”
“Yes! Yes I will!” Puppington lit up before pausing to look back down to the floor and kicking at it. “I mean that’s cool. It’s whatever.” Danielle couldn’t help but grin. ‘Is that what I'm like?’ His face fell at the thought.
“Can I ask to stay the night?” His voice didn't sound like his own. Puppington only stared at him for a moment or two. It was already dark out. The blanket was already over him and he used his own biceps as a pillow.
“Yeah…yeah of course.” There was a silent relief in his voice. “But when and if my father comes back I won't help you fight him off.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “Do you need anyth—” He cut himself off. Danielle was already asleep. Even if he did say no it would've been forced to be a yes.