Chapter Text
Angus took a deep breath as he stepped through the imposing double doors for the first time. A new year of school. A new him. He steadied himself, rolling his broad shoulders, and pushed the doors open. No one stopped to stare. No one immediately called him out, accused him of the fraud he was committing in their hallways. No one even seemed to notice as he strode through the hallways, nodding at people he recognized and greeting them in a much deeper voice than he’d used last year.
Maybe one did a double-take, seeing something familiar in the gleam of his brown eyes behind the thick lenses of his glasses. For most of them, however, the change had been so gradual, so slow, that it was old news. Relief settled his anxiety, and he found himself smiling as he sat down for his first class.
It was going to be a good year. He could feel it in his bones.
“Angela, God damn it, what have I told you about wearing that tie in the house?”
Angus’ fingers moved to fiddle with the simple black knot at his throat as he frowned quietly, not looking up from the wooden whorls of the dinner table. His father glared at him, eye twitching, while his mother took another long sip of her wine.
“Oh, relax, hon. It’s just the style, these days. Angie can wear a tie if she wants.”
“Not in my house, she won’t.”
Angus closed his eyes, counting his breaths. Even now, though he was nearly as tall as his father, he wanted to go curl up in the pantry and hide like he did when he was five. Even now, he heard the crack of the belt in the low snarl of his father’s voice.
“Take that fucking thing off, or you’ll be going to bed without supper.”
His father’s eyes locked onto him, bloodshot veins creeping up to the deep black of his irises. He had been drinking again. Angus slowly rose from the table, setting down his napkin, and turned to walk up to his room in silence.
“Hey! Angela!”
“Hon, let it go,” he heard his mother groaning as he closed his bedroom door behind him.
“Angie! Is that really you? Holy shit, you look awesome!”
Angus grimaced, forcing the expression into an awkward smile as the familiar blue eyes of his old friend--and longest crush--lit up with genuine joy.
“It’s, uh... It’s Angus, now, actually,” he corrected, staring at the wall full of lockers.
Gregg blinked twice, tilting his head.
“What, really?”
Angus only nodded, feeling as if he’d like nothing more than to be swallowed up by the earth at that very moment.
“Cool!” Gregg chirped, smile widening. All at once, he lashed out a lean arm and punched Angus in the shoulder, cackling as he did so. “Welcome to the guy club, my man!”
Angus blinked back at him, rubbing at where he’d gotten hit as a slow, lopsided smile crossed his lips.
“Hey, dude, me an’ Mae were talking over the summer, and we’re totally gonna start up a band with Casey! It’s gonna be awesome! You should come watch us jam sometime! Mae’s gonna do bass, Casey’s on drums, I’m gonna sing. So whaddya say?”
“Uh... sure? Where--”
“Oh, we dunno yet. But we’re totally gonna do it.”
Angus chuckled, shaking his head slightly. Not one of those three had a lick of impulse control between them. They’d gotten themselves in more than enough trouble to prove it, too.
“Right. Well, uh... let me know, I guess?”
“For sure, duder! What class you got next?”
Angus blinked, pulling the folded schedule out of his pocket as they turned to walk together down the crowded hallway.
“Uh... Honors Geometry, it looks like.”
“Boo,” Gregg complained, crinkling his nose. “I got English. What lunch?”
“B lunch?” Angus replied, adjusting his glasses.
“Yesss! Nice! Mae does, too! Not Casey, though, he got stuck with C lunch, poor guy. Los Tres Amigos, back in the saddle again!”
His shrill voice was loud enough to cut over the chatter in the halls, and Angus couldn’t help but wince as multiple pairs of eyes turned their way. He only gave the onlookers an awkward smile in return; everyone knew what Gregg was like, after all. They couldn’t hold that against either of them.
“Angela, you open this goddamn door!”
Angus drew in a deep breath and forced himself to rise from his desk, gently closing his laptop as he did so. As he walked toward the door, his fingers worked the knot out of his tie. Of all the things for his father to pick a fight about today...
He opened the door, silently leaning against the frame as he met his father’s eyes. The older man opened his mouth to speak, then spluttered a moment when his eyes fell on the blank space where the tie had been moments ago.
“...Hmph. Damn straight,” he finally grumbled, straightening himself up. “Ain’t gonna have any of this... this weird shit in my house, you hear me? You’re a girl, and you’ll damn well act like one under my roof.”
“Mom doesn’t wear dresses,” Angus muttered, a sudden fire in his belly making him bold. “And you don’t yell at her for it.”
“Your mother’s a grown-ass married woman who’s had a kid!” His father bellowed, jabbing his finger into Angus’ breastbone.
Angus stood firm, though every muscle in his body screamed for him to flinch.
“...Fine,” he said, forcing the word out of his mouth as he looked at his father. “I won’t wear the tie in the house. I’m still going to dress like this, though.”
He gestured to his sweater and neatly-pressed pants, feeling his hand tremble just the slightest bit as he did so.
His father sneered.
“Fine. You give me any lip, or talk back to me at all, ever, while you still live under my roof, though, and I’ll go and buy you some nice fucking sundresses to wear. And you will wear them, by God. You understand me?”
Angus remained silent, heart pounding in his chest as he found himself torn between self-preservation and sudden, blistering fury. His father leaned in closer, bulging eyes staring through him as his lips twisted into a snarl. Angus could smell the booze on his breath.
“Do. I. Make myself. Clear?”
A hundred memories of being slapped across the face, dragged by the hair, snapped by a belt, flashed through his mind at once, quenching the fire within him, and Angus let his head droop.
“...Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now go wash the goddamned dishes, your mother’s a fucking mess.”
Angus did not argue, his face a perfectly blank mask even as a blazing whirlwind raged inside of him. He was going to get the hell out of here, soon. He just had to bide his time. He just had to hold on for another couple of years, and then...
Beatrice sighed as she walked with Angus to the cafeteria, rolling her eyes.
“I don’t know why you hang out with those lowlifes,” she muttered, shaking her head slightly.
“You used to hang out with Mae,” Angus pointed out, quirking a brow at her.
“Ha. Yeah, before she turned into a huge asshole. And criminal, I might point out.”
“Okay... granted, Mae and Casey aren’t... the best influences ever,” Angus admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as they stepped into the seemingly endless line together. “But Gregg’s a good guy.”
Beatrice squinted at him, her face crinkling.
“A ‘good guy’? I’m pretty sure he and Mae both tried to set the school on fire last year.”
“...But they didn’t.”
“Whatever,” Bea replied, rolling her eyes despite the fact that she was smiling. “You just like him, is all.”
Angus felt himself blushing as he cleared his throat.
“Well, I mean, it’s... it’s not..”
“It’s cool. You can say it. I’m not judging--well, actually, I guess I kinda am, because he’s literally a tiny overly-excitable thug, but...” Beatrice replied, now outright grinning as she let the rest of her statement drop away unspoken.
Angus only flushed deeper.
“It’s not like... it’s not like he’d even be interested.”
Beatrice shrugged, grabbing a tray and watching with idle disgusted fascination as the ladies behind the lunch line ladled all sorts of indescribable horrors onto her platter.
“You never know.”
Angus dwelled on the thought until they’d finally scanned their cards at the end of the line, and Bea separated herself to drift off into the group of honors students she usually travelled with. Angus stood indecisively in the middle of the cafeteria, watching her leave and sweeping his gaze over the other tables.
He caught sight of an arm flailing at him from across the room. Gregg was already seated with Mae, the two of them arguing over a box of chocolate milk now that one of Gregg’s arms was now occupied with flagging Angus down.
He walked over to join them, chuckling as Mae wrested the box out of Gregg’s hand.
“Ha! Victory is mine!” She cried, a mad gleam in her eyes as she held the box high.
“Hey! No way, I was only half paying attention! That doesn’t count!”
“TO THE WINNER GO THE SPOILS,” Mae shouted, ripping open the box and immediately chugging down the entire container of chocolate milk.
Gregg pouted, looking at Angus with those brilliant blue eyes of his.
“Can you believe this? My own bestest friend in the world, usurping my milk.”
“Truly, one of the greatest tragedies of our age,” Angus replied solemnly as he handed over his own little box of chocolate milk.
Gregg immediately lit up, cackling his victory as he shoved the little box into Mae’s face--only to recoil with a squeal when she attempted to steal that one, too. Instead, Gregg snapped the box open and chugged the milk down, leaving Mae to sulk beside him.
“Ah... thanks, dude! You’re the best,” he enthused, beaming at Angus.
Angus only smiled, trying his best not to blush as he picked at his so-called ‘food’.
He left for awhile after doing the dishes. His parents didn’t care. They were both lost in their own little worlds, passed out in front of the television in the den. The crisp autumn air felt good in his lungs as he headed for the park, remembering the invitation from Gregg at the end of the day. It didn’t take too long to get there, and it was turning out to be a beautiful night; stars twinkled in the distant cosmos overhead, and Angus found himself spending more time staring up than he did looking where he was going. Still, it was no trouble. He knew these roads like the back of his hand, even though he rarely got the chance to escape his parents for a little while.
A constellation caught his eye as he approached the park--Ibon, the first singer. He had always wondered what those ancients were thinking, connecting the dots like they did. Why a goat? Why did he sing the first songs, in their eyes? Why, for that matter, was he so eager to teach the fish to sing?
He hummed to himself, a formless tune in a rich, low voice. What would it be like, hearing a fish sing?
“Hey, I didn’t know you could sing.”
Angus jumped, snapping his head around to find the source of the sudden voice. Gregg waved, grinning. He was sitting alone on a bench, shiny black boots kicked out in front of him as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather biker’s jacket.
“O-Oh. Uh... I don’t, really,” Angus muttered, clearing his throat.
“No, man. You sound good. Soulful.”
He couldn’t help but smile, rubbing one of his arms as he slowly approached.
“...I thought Mae and Casey were going to be here?”
Gregg shrugged, squinching his nose.
“They had stuff come up, so it’s just me. I thought about not coming, too, but I figured you’d probably come, and then you’d be all alone, and that wouldn’t be cool.”
Angus chuckled, moving to sit next to him on the bench.
“I’m usually by myself. It’s no big deal.”
“Really? I thought you had all kinds of friends.”
“I mean... sort of, but they’re mostly... y’know, school friends. We don’t... we don’t hang out, or that kind of thing,” Angus explained, shrugging a little as he looked back up at the stars. “Same with the scouts. Just friendships of convenience.”
“That sucks,” Gregg said, visibly drooping.
Angus shrugged again.
“It’s okay. I don’t plan on staying in Possum Springs too much longer, anyway. I’ll find other friends.”
“Going off to college? I know you’re, like, super smart,” Gregg chirped.
Angus only chuckled.
“I mean... eventually, yeah. But I’m moving first.”
Gregg tilted his head to one side, squinting a little, but didn’t say anything further. The two of them sat in silence for awhile as the stars twinkled overhead. Not even the dim glow of the streetlights could overpower them tonight; everywhere Angus looked, he could see another constellation he recognized. Lines between stars. Patterns connecting disparate pieces of information. Impossible to see, and yet as concrete and clear and ordered as any piece of program code.
“So... what’s it feel like?”
Angus blinked, looking back at Gregg.
“What?”
“Y’know... being a dude, now.”
“Oh. Well...” Angus took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to put years of confused body image into words. “It feels... like it was always meant to be this way.”
Gregg only grinned, eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
“Cool. I’m happy for you, duder.”
Angus nodded, smiling to himself as he idly played with the hem of his sweater.
That surge of boldness from before lit a new fire in his belly. Maybe it was the stars. Maybe it was just getting out of the house with an actual compromise in place, maybe it was just being alone with him, finally, but...
“Hey, um... Can I... Can I tell you something?” Angus asked, looking askance at his friend.
“Of course, dude! Anything!”
Gregg leaned forward, his full attention on Angus. For once. Angus faltered, clearing his throat as he fidgeted with a loose thread on his sweater.
“I, uh... I’ve always... I really like you.”
“I like you, too,” Gregg chirped, beaming.
“No, um. Like... I...” Angus grimaced, fumbling with the words. Words were always a lot harder than mathematical equations, plugging in the variables and watching the numbers work.
“I... like you,” he repeated awkwardly, leaning heavily on the word as he forced himself to look at Gregg.
Gregg only blinked. It may have just been a trick of the light, but Angus could have sworn he saw him blush. Then, all at once, he let out a wild, mad cackling, and Angus blinked as Gregg threw his arms around him.
“Really?!”
Angus laughed, flustered, and reached up to adjust his unseated glasses.
“Y-Yeah, but... I mean, I’ve liked you for a... a long time, but I always figured since you were... you liked... guys, that...”
Gregg grinned up at him.
“You are a guy, my dude.”
Angus blinked slowly, taking a deep breath as a whirlwind of emotion threatened to overwhelm him.
“...With a nice ass, I might add.”
He couldn’t help but laugh, slumping against Gregg and hugging him tight.
Just a few more years. He only had to wait a few more years to leave Possum Springs. He looked up at the stars, trying to stifle the sudden onset of the sniffles. Two stars reached out for one another across time and space. Imaginary bonds, an invisible pattern, held them in place.
Maybe, just maybe, the bond would be strong enough that he could take Gregg with him when he left.