Work Text:
“Racetrack Higgins, I swear to god, if you click that pen one more time—“
Spot glared across the tiny college dorm room at his roommate and boyfriend, daring him to make another sound.
He wasn’t normally this irritable, but Race was on his last nerve. His boyfriend may have finished his classes, finals and all, but Spot sure as hell hadn’t, and pre-law classes were hard!
He had two different finals tomorrow, one last essay to submit, and two more finals on Wednesday. For the last week, he had thought of nothing but milestone cases, unprecedented rulings, jurisdiction, gerrymandering, Socrates, and about a hundred other possible final essay topics.
He hadn’t slept more than twelve total hours in the last three days, and was consisting solely on ramen, red bull, and espresso shots.
Race had been supportive at first, a model boyfriend actually. He had cooked dinner for Spot, helped him run over his notes, pulled him away from his work for a little... extracurricular activities when he got too stressed. But now he was tired of the constant studying, Spot’s insistence on dead silence, and the lack of attention his boyfriend was giving him.
Draped carelessly across the rumpled blue sheets of his bed, Race raised one single eyebrow in a silent challenge.
“I’m sorry, what? I can’t actually hear you over the sound of this,” he smirked, holding the aforementioned pen aloft and slowly, slowly pressing down on the end, holding it and then releasing it with a sharp click, right as his mouth formed the last word.
Spot felt a low growl forming at the back of his throat, a migraine starting to build behind his temples, and he shot up from his chair, leaving it spinning wildly behind him.
“You know what, that’s it. I’m fucking done with you. I can’t work here, I can’t deal with this, I can’t— I can’t—“
He threw up his hands in frustration, knocking a stack of paper off his desk as he did so, pages scattering all across the already covered floor.
Spot looked down at the mess he had made, floor littered with pages, desk covered in empty cans and eraser shreds, bed barely visible under a mountain of library books he had barely touched.
Suddenly, the stress and the pressure became too much. His head fucking ached, his body was impossibly, uncomfortably sore from disuse, and all he wanted to do was breakdown and cry.
So he did.
He buried his head in his hands, slumping back and leaning into his desk chair as against his own volition, tears started to stream down his face.
Race dropped the pen as quickly as if it had burned him, dismay and concern scribbled messily across his face. He scrambled up from the bed, moving toward Spot with his arms held open.
“Hey, hey, I’m sorry, babe. I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to get you so upset, I was just joking.”
His voice was so soothing, so calming, and that was all Spot could take. He stumbled forward into Race’s embrace, sobs being forced out of his body as his shoulders heaved, fists clenching in the soft material of his boyfriend’s t-shirt. His previous irritation with the boy was washed away by his sudden, overwhelming wave of emotion, and he just wanted to be held.
Through it all, Race kept his arms wrapped loosely around him, hands lightly rubbing over his back, chin resting in Spot’s hair, soft, sweet murmurs coming from his mouth. Spot had no idea what he was saying, but it sounded good, and slowly he began to feel better. After a moment of Race holding Spot up in the center of the room, he carefully maneuvered them over to his bed, sitting down gently while still keeping his arms around the dark-haired boy.
Spot’s tears finally stopped flowing, breath easing, the knot inside his chest loosening, bit by bit.
Wiping a rough hand across his cheeks, he regretfully pulled away from Race, loathe to leave his warm embrace. The other boy gave him a slight smile, blue eyes filled with comfort and concern as his thumb massaged the pressure point in Spot’s left hand, relieving his headache.
“You okay, Sean?”
Spot let a trembling sigh escape him before nodding, feeling lightheaded and drained. All his energy was spent, wasted on his frustration, anger, and despondency. Now that he was breathing normally, feeling slightly more removed from the situation, he was embarrassed by his outburst.
Race smiled softly, tilting his chin up and looking him in the eye, his gaze holding no sign of judgement.
“It’s okay, babe. You’re allowed to be upset, you’re allowed to feel this way.”
The dark-haired boy clutched Race’s shirt tighter, unsure whether he could believe his words as he continued.
“I shouldn’t have pushed you. It’s my fault, and I’m sorry.”
Spot buried his head in his boyfriend’s shoulder again, shaking his head against the soft fabric.
“Hey, c’mon, look at me.”
Once again Spot allowed Race to lift his head up, looking him steadily in the eyes. The blonde-haired boy leaned back against the wall, settling both of them comfortably across the bed.
“Is this really just the studying? Because if it is, that’s fine, I mean, we can just take a break and then I can leave you alone to finish working if that’s what you want. But I just, I’m not sure— I’m not sure it’s just the studying? Am I right? You can tell me if I’m not, if it’s just stress.”
Spot looked down at the wrinkled bedsheets, refusing to meet Race’s eyes. Inside of him a storm was raging, an internal battle to either give in to the concern and comfort he felt in Race’s gaze, or to keep it to himself, trying to solve his own problems.
He scoffed at himself. Yeah, because that had gone so well, with him crying all over his boyfriend’s shirt like his dog had just died. He didn’t even have a dog. He didn’t even have a reason to be upset at all, not really. But... well, what would happen if he told Race? Worst case scenario, Race would laugh at him, and if that happened, maybe he could laugh it off as well, and at least he told someone about how he felt, right?
He slowly took a deep breath in, holding it and then releasing.
“Okay. I— no, it’s not just stress. I mean, it is, but it’s not, it’s— it’s—“
He broke off, frustrated with himself, with how hard it was to get the words out. Race slid his thumb over his shaking hand in soothing, circular motions, giving Spot an encouraging smile.
“I’m listening.”
Taking another deep breath, Spot began again.
“I just... I’m stressed, and I’m nervous, and I’m scared? I don’t— I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t think I’m good enough.”
A frown worked its way onto Race’s face, small lines forming across his furrowed brow. When he spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically soft.
“Sean, what don’t you think you’re good enough for?”
Spot shrugged his shoulders lightly, wishing he’d never brought it up. He pulled his hand from Race’s grip to pick at his nail beds, choosing to focus on that rather than the look in his boyfriend’s eyes.
Finally, he looked up, throwing his head forward in one sharp, singular motion and snapping his shoulders back against the wall.
“I don’t know, Race, I don’t know. It’s— god, fuck, it’s everything, don’t you see?”
He threw his hands into the air, moving them from his hair to his thighs and then to rest at his sides, punctuating his words with short, quick motions.
All the words suddenly burst forth at once, everything he had been keeping in over the past few days, rolling over him like a tidal wave.
“It’s you, and it’s college, and my parents, and everything! I don’t deserve any of this! What did I do to get into college? There’s so many other people they could have taken, why would they choose me? I’m not as smart as you or Davey, I’m not talented like Romeo or Blink, I’m just fucking Spot Conlon, a nobody from Brooklyn. Hell, my own parents don’t even want me. Soon as I could leave, they kicked out of the house. Why would college want someone like me? Why would you want someone like me?”
On the last sentence, Spot’s voice broke, choking back tears as he tried not to drown in them in the back of his throat. His fingers tugged at his hair for a few moments before he finally dropped them back in his lap, feeling heavy and useless.
When he dared to peek up at Race, the other boy was giving him the same steady, measured look, a troubled expression on his face.
Race reached out slowly, taking Spot’s hands in his own. He squeezed them lightly, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Spot’s, making sure he was okay with it.
When he spoke, it was in a near whisper, breath tickling Spot’s skin and stirring the air around them.
“Sean, you’re more than enough. For me, for our friends, for college. God, if you only knew how lucky I am to have you. You really think you’re not good enough for me? Who helps me through my anxiety attacks? Who reminds me to take my ADHD meds everyday, walking me to class and helping me with homework when I get stuck? Babe, that’s you. If anyone doesn’t deserve the other, it’s me.”
Spot shook his head, struggling to tell Race that it wasn’t true, but his boyfriend stopped him, squeezing his wrists lightly again.
“Uh-uh, don’t tell me it’s not true. You are good enough for me, you’re more than enough for me, and everyone else thinks that too. All our friends love you, and trust me, no one thinks you’re not smart, or not talented. Sean, you’re a fucking pre-law student, you’re smart as hell. I see the work you put in, you try harder than anyone. You deserve this, and you’re going to ace your finals. There’s a reason you got accepted into this college, with a full-ride too. It’s because you belong here, and you know what? If your parents can’t see how special you are, then fuck them. Okay? Fuck them.”
Race’s voice grew more impassioned as he went on, pulling back to look Spot directly in the eye, and he felt himself start to believe his words.
“If your parents don’t want you, then they don’t deserve you anyway. We don’t need our families, either of them. We have our own family, you, me, Jack, Davey. All the other guys. Trust me babe, we’re gonna be just fine. You with me?”
Sniffing slightly, Spot nodded, managing to get out a muffled, “Yeah. Yeah, I— okay. Okay.”
Race smiled, a real, full smile this time, releasing Spot’s hands from his grip.
“Good. I love you, okay?”
Spot nodded, not trusting his own voice, his mind still a mess of tangled emotions, but the foremost one was an upheaval of love for this boy, his amazing boyfriend. Suddenly, he surged forward, connecting their lips in a searing kiss.
He pushed Race back against the wall, one hand putting firm pressure on his hip while the other lazily moved up to knot in his curly blonde hair.
Race sighed into the kiss, relaxing against Spot’s body. The kiss slowly became more heated until Spot finally broke away to breathe, Race taking the opportunity to latch onto his neck, leaving small kisses and bite marks up and down his collarbone.
Spot reveled in the feeling of Race, feeling his lips upon his skin, hands along his waist. His boyfriend’s hands tugged at his shirt, breaking his train of thought and dragging him forward to connect their lips again in a bruising kiss.
Spot never did get back to studying that night, but somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to care. There were more important things than finals, and he had the most important thing right in front of him.