Chapter Text
“Come on. Come on, go!”
Friday morning, 7:35AM. Connor was about to reach his limit with his goddamn, slow-ass, wifi connection. His video was stuck about 4 minutes into loading, and if he didn’t get to see at least one of these guys getting sucked off then he’d just wasted his morning and - oh god, why did he even bother? Frustrated, he slipped his hand out of his boxer-briefs and slammed the lid closed on his laptop.
He then gently opened it again to close the porn window. The last thing he needed was his dad to go snooping and find anything. Crap, he didn’t even have time to take a cold shower. He’d showered the night before to save time but he didn’t have an erection the night before so that what good would that do him now? Fine, whatever. This was all great! It’s not like he was super uncomfortable slipping into his jeans half-hard, stumbling into the bathroom to brush his teeth and put on deodorant. His hair in the mirror was a tangled mess of curly bed head that he gave up on before trying, and just as he lifted his shirt to check for any ab development - any at all - his dad entered.
Pantless and hungover.
“Jeez Dad, a little privacy!” Connor strained, folding his arms across his ab-less stomach and trying not to curl into a ball of embarrassment before he’s even left the house.
Hank mostly ignored his self-consciousness, rounding to the toilet to relieve himself of his late night whiskey.
“We’re all men here, kid. Just pretend it’s a locker room.”
Well, Connor didn’t hate gym class only because of the sweat and jock jokes at his expense. But he wasn’t going to get into it, he still had to figure out whether he was hoofing it to school and risking armpit stench following him all day, or taking the bus like all the freshmen and sophomores incapable of driving.
“Did you take Cole to carpool pickup like that?”
Hank grunted, “I tied up the robe.”
“Dad, can you please just have pants on when I get back?” Connor doesn’t have the energy to beg, so it comes out more exasperated than he really meant it to.
Hank gave him a half-hearted salute on his way out, and Connor sighed as he grabbed his schoolbag, wishing he could just take the car to school. He was 17, he had his license! So what if his dad’s car looked a little beat-up on the outside, it was better than the big nothing he had right now. Sumo lumbered up to him as he got to the living room, and Connor gave him many ‘good morning’ pats because he was such a good boy! Oh yes he was!
“Don’t let Dad stay inside today, Sumo. Make him take you for a long walk.”
“Broof!” answered the panting Saint Bernard.
“I expect a full report when I get home okay?” Sumo answered by taking a long swipe across his face with his doggy tongue, knocking his glasses up into his hairline. “Good boy,” he mumbled, wiping down with his jacket sleeve. Hopefully the dog-breath wouldn’t linger on his face.
Outside of his front door, Connor felt the indecisive dread well up again and reached into this jacket for his favourite silver dollar. Fidgeting with it as he saw the bus rounding the corner, he left it up to chance.
>Take the bus - get to school on time in (dis)comfort, look like a loser with no car.
>Walk - don’t look like a stooge without a car, look like a loser, but sweaty.
He flipped the coin.
The bus. Connor sighed and moved to the sidewalk, raking a hand through his hair and trying not to yelp as it got caught on his wristwatch.
Maybe next week he’d be better at surviving his own life, but he didn’t have much hope for today.
One uneventful bus ride later, Connor hunched his shoulders as he navigated through New Jericho High School’s halls, careful not to make eye contact with anyone for more than a millisecond. If he wanted to, he could walk through this place blindfolded, but he settled on staring at his shoes and getting to his locker.
“So according to Rosanna Cartland, Elijah told Traci that he’d have sex with her if she beat him at pool. And then he lost at pool. Deliberately.” Chloe Guerrero, the most popular girl in junior year, was retelling a story to two other people while applying peach-tinted lip balm.
Right next to his locker. Connor froze, fearing his own death if he got too close to one of the hottest girls in school. Chloe had been dating Elijah Kamski over the summer, but they’d broken up about a month ago. Clearly, she was still upset about it.
“That’s so clever,” Daniel Phillips mused, shoving his backpack into his own locker and fiddling with a fuzzy pencil case and matching book cover that likely belonged to Chloe. Daniel had been Chloe’s shadow for the past year, and Connor had no idea of his personality aside from that. Silence from Chloe made Daniel look up, and he quickly backtracked upon seeing her icy stare directed at him and not the compact mirror in her hand, “I mean, nauseating!”
The final person, school gossip Rosanna Cartland, tried to interject, “And then, Traci was like-”
“Do I look finished, Rosanna?” Chole turned to the blonde just behind her, and finally caught sight of Connor looking their way. She frowned at him impassively, promptly hooking her arm with Daniel’s and steering him away. Rosanna trailed behind them, and Connor sighed, feeling just a bit more shame from some unexplained place.
That’s what he got for looking at people, he guessed. Whatever. One, two, three steps to his locker and-
“Watch it, tall-ass!” Why did he even try?
Of all people, he’d literally bumped into Gavin Reed, the 5’9 terror that plagued his Monday to Friday from 8:00AM until 2:55PM. And some weekends at the mall, if he was really unlucky.
Side-stepping without looking at him, Connor made a vague gesture towards the wall. “S-sorry! I was just... going to my-”
“Shut up,” Gavin, who was very strong for his shorter stature, spun Connor around, shoving him face first into the wall of lockers. Connor felt an odd, moving pressure against his backpack while Gavin cackled behind him. What was he doing? Gavin leaned in beside him, “Wash that off, and you’re dead,” and pushed Connor against the metal once more for good measure. Even though Gavin had let him go, Connor was glued, stuck on the precipice of a panic attack before class had even begun.
Breathe. In. Out. Slow in. Slow out.
“Gavin, you’re such a brute,” Elijah Kamski chastised halfheartedly from behind Connor, but he didn’t make more of an effort than that. Elijah was a rich kid whose grandfather founded the Thirium Soda Company back in the 1960’s, and their family had been reaping the benefits ever since. Rumors said that Elijah used to go to a fancy prep school, but got kicked out for severe misconduct so his parents punished him by sending him to New Jericho.
Personally, Connor didn’t think it was doing much to make him a better human being.
In. Out.
“Come off it, Eli. Hey, what’s the story with you and Traci?” Gavin was a little further away now, obviously having gone to catch up with Elijah.
Elijah chuckled knowingly, and Connor peeled himself off of his locker in time to see him lean a brotherly arm on Gavin’s shoulder. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m just a terrible pool player.” A smirk lifted his lips, and Connor watched as the two disappeared deeper into the school building.
Five minutes until first period. Five minutes until Connor wouldn’t feel like erasing himself from existence.
English Literature and Calculus textbooks secure in his bag, he waded through the meandering students, only pausing to glance at the nearing cork-board.
There was a new sheet among the tutoring posters and sports team propaganda; a sign-up for the after-school play.
Connor liked theatre, he enjoyed the drama of it all. In middle school, he’d actually been cast as Jack in Jack and the Beanstalk and the Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz.
His mother had said he was very good!
Then his parents made him and his little brother the children of a quiet divorce.
Then he’d grown gangly and awkward during puberty.
And suddenly, being stared at, bared open on stage wasn’t ideal anymore. He still went to see all of the productions the school put on, but sometimes he wished…
If he could just...
No. No time for dreaming. Connor ignored the sheet, rounding the final corner to a now nearly deserted hallway, and felt his breath catch in his lungs.
Markus Manfred.
Standing at the water fountain, filling a water bottle and bopping his head to a song that could only match the rhythm of Connor’s heart, was Markus Manfred. The blue-and-green eyed adonis that stalked the halls of his mind for the past year at least. Markus had been the lead actor for the last two plays and god...
If Connor had always loved theatre, then when Markus had transferred to their school, his love for theatre grew twice over. Markus was amazing on stage and had a thousand megawatt smile that could make angels weep with its beauty.
But Markus also was 110% out of his league. Top-tier unattainable. The most Connor had ever said to him was, “There’s a vending machine around the corner,” and even that had been a painfully stuttered mess. Connor had to walk by him to get to class, so when Markus lifted the bottle to take a drink - Holy shit, how could someone look so hot just drinking water? Look at his arm muscles, how the fuck? Sleeveless hoodies should be illegal - he made a break for it.
Eyes down. Left foot, right foot, left-
“Excuse me?” said a deep tenor behind him. Connor turned, disbelief making his eyes wide behind his glasses. No way was Markus talking to him. But he was, looking directly at Connor. Like it was normal.
“Yeah?”
Shit, was he about to break into a sweat just watching a man wipe his mouth?
Markus took an aborted step, adjusting his bag higher on his back and looking at Connor with a measure of confused concern. “I think someone wrote... girlf on your backpack?”
...What?
Connor swung his bag around to take a look. Right there, in block letters across the front of his bag. G I R L F. When did that even happen?
Gavin...
“I, um,” Connor gave an uncomfortable little laugh, took one step away, and bolted for the safety of class.
Fuck. Now, Markus had seen whatever this was, whatever joke Gavin was playing on him. The embarrassment of having him witness at least part of his daily torment made his eyes burn hot. He wanted to scream, or maybe cry. Even more, the thoughts of what he could have - should have said to Markus instead of running away like a complete weirdo plagued him all the way to the lunch line.
Even ‘Free Pizza Friday’ couldn’t lift his spirits, his single slice of margherita lying limp on school-standard blue lunch tray, next to a bottle of apple juice. He accepted his side-salad with mumbled thanks, scanning the cafeteria for a friendly face to sit with.
“Connor!” He finally spotted the platinum blonde hair and decorated red hoodie he was looking for, and bee-lined to his best (only) friend, Kara Williams. Kara’s aesthetic was very much retro video games and 90’s vintage, which she wore proudly in space invader and pac-man patches all over her clothes. Those, along with a few other patches representing causes she felt like speaking out about like racism, LGBTQI rights and equality, told people about who she was before she ever had to speak, according to her.
Since the age of five, Kara had been the Simon to his Garfunkel, the Mario to his Luigi, the Scully to his Mulder - He wasn’t sure he would have survived this long without her at his side.
Kara grinned over at him as he sat down across from her, lips stained blue by the tall slushy in her hands. “How’s it hanging?”
“You shouldn’t drink that so often,” Connor said, picking through his salad with palpable melancholy.
Kara pouted around her chopsticks, a negimaki roll having disappeared in her mouth moments before. “The guy at 7-Eleven is heavy with his pours. He’s nice to me.” The sticks were suddenly turned on him, pointed at his nose in accusation. “You look miserable.”
“I hate this school,” he answered around a baby tomato.
“What’s wrong?” she sighed. Connor presented his backpack, in all its GIRLF glory. Kara made an ‘o’ with her lips, reaching under the table and providing her own pack for the showcase. The letters RIENDS were written in a similar thick black marker across her bag.
RIENDSGIRLF?
Kara swapped their bags around.
GIRLFRIENDS.
“Great.” Connor rolled his eyes, rubbing his fingers over the canvas of Kara’s bag and willing the letters to disappear. Bad enough that Gavin made him his prime target but he hated when Kara got roped into his ‘pranks’. Kara took it in stride, taking her property out of Connor’s hands.
“Connor, leave it. It’s fine. Was this Gavin?” At his confused look, she continued, “I didn’t see who did it, but it reeks of Reed. He’ll get his one day. Trust me, karma’s a bitch.”
They fell into a companionable silence not long after, each trying to finish their lunch surround by the din of the lunch hall. And then Connor remembered that- “Markus spoke to me today.”
Kara paused in wide-eyed surprise, the final dregs of her drink all but forgotten as she gave Connor her full attention. “That’s great! What’d you say?”
“I ran away.”
Her perkiness deflated slightly and her smile turned more sympathetic, everything that Connor and his anxiety didn’t need. “Oh... kay well. That’s something.”
Or, in other words, he fucked up the first opportunity he had this semester. Good job! Connor’s head dropped to the table with a soft thud, and he thumped it down one more time for good measure. “I’m such a loser.”
A gentle hand began petting the fluff of his hair, “You know, I read that humanity has stopped evolving.”
Connor almost smiled against the table at the sudden topic change, but didn’t attempt to move from his new favourite spot at rock bottom. “That doesn’t sound right, but okay? So?”
“So! Evolution has effectively been overtaken by technology, removing the need for survival of the fittest. Statistically, it’s never been a better time to be a loser!”
Slowly, ever so slowly, Connor lifted his face away from the table, pillowing his chin on folded arms. “Is that meant to make me feel better?”
Kara shrugged, munching on a sugar pea. “I tried.” This time, when Connor to hide away his arms, Kara had a hand out ready to stop him. “You’re having a bad day, I understand. How about I come over later? We can fight some zombies in Apocalypse of the - Oh, Manfred at 6 o’clock.”
Connor was upright in a flash, almost knocking his tray off the table in his haste to turn and spot Markus. There he was, on the near opposite side of the cafeteria, looking just as handsome as he had 3.5 hours before. Markus appeared to be having an animated conversation (argument?) with North Shapiro, brandishing a pen between them like a weapon while Josh Miller and Simon Phillips watched on in amusement.
Connor had known North when they were children, loosely. They’d talk about nothing important and play simple games while her mother would chat with the Rabbi, but their paths never intersected much after that. Probably for the better. She became beautiful and athletic to the point that Kara had once stated, “She could throw me in the trash any day and I’d say, ‘Thank you’,” and Connor was inclined to agree.
Especially after he’d seen North as Juliet, opposite Markus’ Romeo in the last play. The vulnerability and ultimately the strength she’d portrayed had been amazing to watch. How could he ever forget the way his heart had been systematically broken over the course of an hour and a half, looking at Markus profess his love for her with such passion that it had to be real. Of course they were dating. Why was he kidding himself?
But then he saw North with Juliet’s Nurse, Hana Person in her lap not 20 minutes after the show ended and he’d never been more grateful to see two people make out in his life.
The former Juliet rolled her eyes and replied to Markus, who looked staggered by her actions, clutching at his chest dramatically and swaying into Josh’s startled arms. Josh looked at his casualty in distress and began fanning him immediately, Simon doubling over behind North as his wheezing laugh grew audible even to Connor.
Josh and Simon had also been a part of the show, playing Mercutio and Friar Lawrence respectively. Josh was the only one of the crew that Connor consistently shared classes with, and as far he could tell, Josh was smart. Really smart. Second only to Elijah Kamski in their grades but significantly less of a jerkwad. Science competitions, Math decathlons - you name it, Josh had probably already participated and won. It was insane, and until sophomore year, Connor had thought him a loner. Theatre was magical like that, he guessed.
Simon Phillips, identical twin brother to Daniel Phillips, was the one he knew the least about, but the general consensus was that he was nice. Willing to loan you money for snacks or spare you a pencil if you needed it. Where Daniel seemed more trendy with his fashion choices (which may have been more the influence of Chloe), Simon dressed for comfort, in warm looking knit sweaters that Connor was also certain he knitted himself.
Markus recovered from his fainting spell, sparing North a playful scowl as he turned to the wall near them. Connor squinted, leaning out over the back of his chair as he tried to see what Markus was writing. He thought he recognised the text on the sheet… “He’s signing up for the play.”
“I think so? Uh, Connor?” Kara called, and Connor looked back at her, realising that he was already standing a foot away from his chair. He’d moved without thinking, impulse drawing him closer to the board. To Markus. If he signed up, they’d be in the same place. They’d practice together. Have scenes together. Maybe talk?
Connor didn’t have any illusions that this would work. He wasn’t cool, he wasn’t smooth, and he was probably going to fuck it up as soon as he tried, but-
He really just wanted to talk to him. Properly. For once.
Connor took a weak breath, looking down at his shoes, then back towards the wall where the group of four were already moving off. “I…”
“Hey.” Kara’s hand squeezed his shoulder, and he saw that she’d come to join him in staring across the room. She gave him two thumbs up, and a slight shove of encouragement to get him moving.
His hands were shaking by the time he managed to scribble his name on the sheet just beneath Simon’s, but it was there. He felt equal parts terrified and proud.
Now he just had to survive school until rehearsal that afternoon.
Rehearsal, where he’d be trapped in a room with Markus for hours and have to not make a fool out of himself.
...Ahh, shit.