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~Valentine’s Day Heart-Grams~
Do you have that special someone who puts a skip in your step? A flutter in your heart? Someone who makes your palms sweaty and your knees weak? On Valentine’s Day for only $1, a member of student council will anonymously deliver a gift to your crush! All proceeds go towards the prom fund. Sign-ups are in the main office!
Ben wants to laugh when he reads the notice posted on the bulletin board beside his locker. He even forces out a half-assed chuckle, for no one’s benefit, he’s alone. But his mind betrays him, swimming with thoughts of fiery red hair and an artful scowl, of biting words and rare smiles. He presses his eyes closed as if he can keep the images trapped in that way. He almost thinks he can smell him, he realizes wistfully. Earl grey tea, cologne pilfered from Hux Sr.’s bathroom, spicy cinnamon underlying it all--
“Ben!”
His eyes snap open. Oh .
“Are you having a fit or something? We’re going to be late for chem.”
He waits until Armie gets a few steps ahead of him before he turns back to rip the flyer from its thumbtack, hastily stuffing it into his messenger bag. Heart-Grams… maybe it isn’t such a dumb idea after all, the romantic in him decides.
The student body treasurer interrupts their first period class, a headband with hearts on springs bobbing cheerfully atop her head in stark contrast with the unamusement etched on her face. In her arms is a large white basket full of small tokens of affection wrapped in pink and red paper, satin ribbons and lace. “Heart-Grams!” she announces less than enthusiastically, looking as if she is barely suppressing an eyeroll. Armitage doesn’t hold back in the same way.
He takes the interruption to elaborate on the notes he had been jotting down, handwriting tiny and neat even though his gaze is locked on the PowerPoint projected on the whiteboard. His pale brows furrow when he finds his view obstructed by the treasurer. He sits up straight to snap at her but the words get stuck on parted lips when a gift is plopped down on his desk.
“This is a mistake,” he immediately insists, not bothering to check the tag on the sloppily wrapped package.
“Are you Armitage Hux?”
“...yes.”
“Then it’s not a mistake.” She moves onto the next student.
Armitage’s thin fingers linger hesitantly on the sides of the mysterious gift, eyes shifting to meet Ben’s across the room. His friend merely shrugs unhelpfully. Armitage’s first instinct is to assume it’s a cruel joke being played on him, but no, that can’t be it. Everyone knows Ben would beat the shit out of them for messing with him.
With a frown, he pulls the ribbon holding the wrapping together. It falls open to reveal a box of his favorite tea, an expensive brand that he only indulges in when he’s received money for his birthday. What? Who? How? Does he have a stalker ? The thought makes him uneasy.
--
“Who do you think sent it?” He murmurs as soon as they’re out in the hall after class, gaze shifting this way and that as if the gift giver would be lingering nearby, listening in on their conversation.
“I dunno. You have a secret admirer,” Ben teases him. Armitage stops himself from slapping that stupid grin off his face. “That’s kind of fun.”
“It’s no laughing matter, Ben. Someone has clearly been keeping tabs on me and I don’t like it one bit,” he sniffs, indignant. “I need you to find them and ensure it doesn’t happen again.”
It happens again as Ben knew it would. This time, nervousness rather than excitement flips his belly as he watches the student class vice president stop in front of Armie’s desk in their next class. A cat plush is dropped onto the particle board surface, a fluffy orange one, and Armie’s face turns the same shade of pink as the bow around the toy’s neck. Ben is certain it’s more out of rage than bashfulness as Armie’s furious glare meets his. He hunkers down lower in his chair, swearing to himself to never again attempt to surprise his best friend.
--
“You really can’t find who’s behind this?”
Ben gives a quick shake of his head, tongue darting out to wet his lips in a nervous gesture as he picks his words. “It’s all done anonymously. The signup slips just have your name and the gift on them. Maybe you should chill--”
“Get me one of the signup sheets. I’ll analyze the handwriting. I will get to the bottom of this.”
Ben’s shoulders deflate as he watches Armie walk away, coming to the awful realization that he’ll have to come clean. That can be done after school, it can wait. For now, he’s grateful to not be in Armie’s last two classes where he’ll be receiving his own bottle of the cleanly scented cologne he favors and then a personalized mixtape. Ben half considers skipping his next class to try to retrieve the gifts before they’re delivered, but the damage has been done.
Ben waits in their usual spot by the tree in the courtyard after school, practicing the small speech he had prepared in his last class in his head. Something about having had a crush on him for years now, but he doesn’t want to ruin their friendship so they should probably just forget it happened, sorry for freaking him out with the anonymous gifts. The carefully chosen words flee in terror when he turns around just in time to see Armie burst from the school doors, brows pinched together, gaze narrowed with a ferocity that nearly makes him quake. Apparently he has figured out where the gifts came from.
Ben presses his eyes tightly closed as he steels himself for the punch or the harsh words (perhaps both) that are surely coming his way. Instead, two small hands carefully frame his cheeks, making him flinch despite himself. He tries to move back, unconsciously still prepared for a blow, but the hands hold him firm and Armie stumbles a step forward to match him.
“Fucking-- hold still,” comes a sharp command.
Ben peeks open one eye to hesitantly glance down at his friend, the other boy’s fine features still screwed up but more in concentration now, relaxed out of his former rage. “What are you doing?” The question is prompted by Armie rolling to the tips of his toes to bring their faces closer together.
“You gave me gifts and I have nothing to give you back except this, I guess. So just hold still, okay? Stop being difficult for once in your damn life.”
Ben opens his mouth to again voice his confusion, but any words are smothered by Armie’s lips pressing to his. It’s a graceless thing, lingering perhaps a moment too long, neither knowing what they’re doing, but Ben is sure his heart will hammer out of his chest nonetheless.
When Armie pulls away, Ben means to comment on the kiss, to say something, anything , about how enjoyable it was, but instead a feeling of calm settles over him like they had merely gotten something out of the way that they both knew was coming eventually anyways. They had always sort of belonged to one another, there was no one else, it was logical , as Armie would argue. “How did you know it was me?” He asks instead, boldly lifting a hand to settle on Armie’s waist.
“I Believe in a Thing Called Love was on the tape. Only you know how much I hate that song. Idiot.” Armie leans into him, just a little.