Chapter Text
It’s been a week since Bill’s been in second grade at Shull Elementary School and it’s already extremely lonely.
San Dimas was supposed to be great, his mom and dad carting him away from Charter Oak once his dad got a new office job that was supposed to get him way more money than he used to. Sure, it’s beautiful out every day, their house is way bigger, and all the teachers at school are really nice, but none of the kids want anything to do with him. It’s not like he doesn’t want their attention; Bill’s tried sitting with his classmates at lunch, telling jokes in class, and even getting in the middle of games on the playground.
The kids playing Red Rover yesterday did not like him breaking their line in half to try to join it.
Nothing’s been working no matter what he tries but he refuses to say it’s because he’s behind them. Sometimes he gets distracted super easily and has trouble following along with lessons, but that doesn’t make him stupid. The fact that he didn’t know how to say “cooperation” when he first read it isn’t enough to make the other kids stay away from him no matter what anybody says and Bill’s sticking to that. Like, come on, how should he know that it’s not coop-eration just by looking at it? That’s bogus.
So now it’s his second Tuesday at this new school and instead of playing with the kids in his class who are in the middle of a game of tag, he’s sat on a bench at the edge of the playground doodling in his notebook. Even if he’s too shy to show it to anybody else, Bill’s been drawing ever since he was able to pick up a pencil, starting with basic shapes and now looking more defined to his specific, goofy style. He usually goes back and forth between drawing art of his favorite cartoons and his own little creations; currently he’s in the middle of drawing a dragon that totally doesn’t look like Riley Thompson breathing fire at a knight that totally doesn’t look like himself. Riley’s a huge bully in his class that likes to call him a mongoloid whenever he doesn’t know something and while Mrs. Rose always tells him to stop picking on him, it still hurts.
Making him look like a big gross monster helps, though.
As he’s filling in the large shadow of the beast that rests between it and the knight facing him, he hears a sound next to him that makes him nearly break the lead on his pencil. A flurry of footsteps run behind him and his bench before something’s dropped onto it and when Bill raises his head to look around himself, nobody’s there. There is, however, a sheet of paper folded into a tiny square next to his leg with a smudge of dark green paint on the most visible fold. He squints at it before looking around a second time, scared that this is a trick by Riley since today Bill let himself call him a dork when he insulted him again in class before lunch. Yet this time he can see that Riley is in the middle of that tag game going wild chasing after a few other kids, so whatever this might be is probably safe. Carefully, Bill picks it up and unfolds it only to find something totally awesome.
It’s very messy, but inside lies a painting of Godzilla stomping down a city street with the words “I LIKE YOUR BACKPACK” in the top right corner and “TED” in the bottom left.
Just as he looks down to see if the Godzilla print on his backpack matches up with the pose he’s sporting in the painting (it definitely does), he hears a rustling in the bush behind him. It scares the boy, making him spin around just as he hears a small, “Ow!” and sees a pair of feet peeking out from the bottom of the topiary planted behind the bench. His brow furrowing, Bill reaches out and places his hands on the bush’s leaves, calling out, “Hello?”
Those feet shuffle forward a few steps, Bill watching them until movement higher up catches his eye. Peering his head forward is another boy with a dark, moppy head of hair and wide eyes who looked shyer than any kid he’d seen at Shull yet. “Hi.”
His voice is so soft that Bill can barely hear him, but he does and it doesn’t seem like the other kid’s ready to sock him or anything so he feels safe to ask, “Are you Ted?”
Ted nods quickly, sprinting out to stand at his side with his hands behind his back. “Did you get it?”
Bill nods back before looking back down at the painting curiously. This kid wasn’t in his class and if he really thinks about it, he might’ve seen him at lunch or in the hallway only a few times, so it confuses him how he got it so right. “This is really good.”
Ted giggles softly and looks down sheepishly, moving forward and back on the balls of his feet. “You’re not from here, right?”
“Nope,” Bill says, folding Ted’s gift back up on his lap and putting it in his pocket. “Are you?”
“Yeah.” Ted slowly comes closer, standing in front of him this time and lightly kicking at his backpack as he says, “I mean it, though, I like this. I watch it every Saturday.”
So does Bill, insisting on eating breakfast in front of the TV every Saturday morning to his mom’s dismay, and he grins at the thought. “It’s really cool, right?”
Ted nods again, faster and more excited this time even as he looks up and squints while he speaks. “It’s most enter- entert-aining. Yeah, that’s it! Entert-aining.”
Bill wants to correct him but after his cooperation debacle, he has no business doing that; plus it makes him feel really good that he’s not the only kid at Shull that might not understand things as quickly as his peers. Instead he grins up at him and says, “My name’s Bill, by the way,” before flexing his little arms and adding, “Bill S. Preston, Esquire!”
That makes Ted laugh again while he sits down on the bench next to him. “What’s esquire mean?”
“I don’t know,” Bill shrugs. “But I like it.”
“Me too!” The more Ted interacts with him, the less shy he gets, now noticing the notebook Bill still has on his lap and gasping before pointing at it with, “What’s that?”
“Oh, uh-”
“You like drawing too?” Ted asks before taking it from his hands and holding it up close to his face to analyze. “Let me see!”
Now it’s Bill’s turn to be shy over art; Ted seems really nice and nothing like the other kids, but it’s obvious who he drew. He finally got somebody to like him and he can’t screw it up by being weird, so he lightly tugs at Ted’s arm and says, “Hey, wait!”
Ted squints at the page before looking up at the game of tag still going. Riley’s now It and in the middle of terrorizing other kids by rushing them and stopping just before he manages to tag them, some of the kids clearly not having fun. He takes a second look at the drawing before grinning wide and saying, “This is amazing!”
“...Really?”
“Yeah,” Ted chirps before holding it in front of Bill’s face this time. “Riley is that ugly!”
The other boy sounds so delighted saying it that Bill can’t help but laugh over it, reaching for the notebook again and saying, “He really is.”
Ted doesn’t let go of the notebook right away, turning it back in his hands to study the drawing again but gets the hint when Bill tugs at it once. The way Ted’s face falls makes him feel bad, though, the other kid saying a soft, “Sorry,” before shifting down the bench a few inches away. “I just thought it was cool.”
“It’s okay,” Bill replies, scooting down to meet him once he gets his notebook back in his lap. “I just don’t like letting people see my stuff.”
Ted hides behind his bangs, kicking his feet where they hang over the bench. “I should’ve asked you first.”
It’s then that Bill gets an idea, hating the way Ted’s done a complete 180 even though he’s only known him for a couple minutes. “Hold on,” he says, grabbing his long forgotten pencil from where it lay at his side. He scribbles his first name in all capital letters just like Ted did before ripping out the page with his latest drawing on it and holding it up with, “Here you go!”
He waits patiently as Ted’s eyes grow wide at the gesture. “No way."
“Yes way!”
That makes Ted giggle again, louder this time as he takes it from his hands to fold and put in his pocket before leaning and hugging him. “Thanks, Bill!”
The way Bill gets tugged forward makes him yelp, taken aback by his eager strength, but he manages to bring his arms up to give him a quick squeeze back. “You’re welcome,” he says once Ted lets go of him. “I can show you more stuff at lunch tomorrow if you want.”
“Excellent,” Ted says loudly, his feet kicking faster this time in excitement. “We can sit and eat and talk about Godzilla and Scooby Doo - do you like that one? That one’s cool too and-”
As Bill discovers until recess is over and they have to go back to their selective classes, Ted talks a lot - like a whole lot, more than any other kid he’s ever met. He gets easily distracted too, but so does Bill sometimes, so he doesn’t mind when he bounces back and forth between topics. Neither of them bother to get up and go play with the others, but Bill never feels the urge to with how much fun it is to watch Ted move around as he gushes about something. It’s just nice to have somebody to talk to after the longest week of his life and as long as it’s somebody as funny and energetic as Ted, he can talk for as long as he wants about whatever comes to his head.
Maybe San Dimas is great after all.
______________________________________________
“Do I really have to stay home?”
Ted’s dad sighs as he straightens his bolo tie. “Yes, Ted, you do.”
“But, Dad-”
“That’s final,” his dad says sternly.
The juxtaposition of his firm tone with his cowboy costume is weird, but since Ted’s made himself up like a zombie in purposely tattered clothing like he intended to before his plans were ruined, he can’t laugh at him. Laughing at his dad when he’s told him to do something is a bad idea anyway; he’s not gonna hit him or anything, but he’s a no-nonsense kind of guy, so it was best for him to just accept it even if he’s still mad. If he had to stay home to babysit Deacon instead of going out to trick or treat with Bill at 7 like he meant to, then so be it.
Even if his mom who’s dressed in an elaborate saloon girl outfit is on his side, tutting as she comes downstairs to join him. “Chet, come on, he’s ten - he’s old enough to go out by himself. Deacon would have fun too.”
Deacon sits up from where he lay on the couch watching TV already in his pajamas. “Yeah, can we?”
“Absolutely not,” Dad asserts as he collects his keys from the hook hanging near the door, looking more annoyed now that he’s the odd man out in the discussion. “Ted, you promised you’d be more responsible around here so you’re gonna stay right where you are and look after your brother. You don’t need to be out there anyway, not with what kind of garbage people are putting in candy now.”
Mom sighs and rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “Fine - sorry, boys, I tried.”
“It’s okay, Mom,” Deacon says, stretching out to lay back down with a pout on his face. “I like this show anyway.”
There’s a marathon of Scooby Doo, Where Are You? on which pleases both Logan boys, but Ted resists the urge to argue further. Instead he nods and runs up to hug their mom, taking care not to smudge the bloody cuts he drew on his face as he does. “Have fun at your party.”
“Thank you, Teddy,” she says, petting through his hair. “I’ll see if I can sneak you two some candy while we’re there.”
That makes him grin up at her, getting a kiss on the top of his head at a response to the thanks he gives her. Dad doesn’t even give him a pat on the shoulder as they leave, but the promise of potential sweets is enough to make him not dwell on it once they’re out the door. It’s always been like this, honestly; his dad is a cop after all, so while Ted thinks he loves him, he has a ton of rules that Ted has to follow or else. It’s been okay so far but now that he has a real friend now with Bill, it’s getting harder to do that instead of acting on his own so he can have more time with the other boy.
Especially when he’s stuck with his baby brother like this.
A commercial for an airing of Halloween comes on when Ted joins him on the couch and immediately Deacon’s sitting up and tugging at his tattered sleeve with, “Can we watch that too?”
“No, Deacon, that’s way too scary.”
“I don’t get scared!”
“You had a nightmare after watching the episode with the tar monster,” Ted replies as he gently pushes his hand away. “Plus Dad will totally kill me if I let you watch that.”
Deacon lets out a tiny hmph and crosses his arms with another pout. “Okay. Scooby Doo’s fine.”
“Thank you,” he sighs, relieved as he relaxes against the cushions. His little brother is oblivious to his dad’s ways, partly because he doesn’t have to deal with them like Ted does. It’s still pretty early to tell, but it’s obvious that Deacon’s more wired like a normal kid where Ted isn’t. Ted’s not stupid or anything, at least he doesn’t think so, but Deacon’s already doing way better in his first year of elementary school than Ted ever did. It’s not his fault; sometimes it’s difficult for him to concentrate and while he’s been getting better in English class, Math and History have always been a struggle. It’s hard for him to remember all the rules and names attached to them and while Mom tries to help him, it’s clear that Dad does think he’s stupid when he doesn’t understand something.
Sure, Dad loves him, but he just might love Deacon more for not being an idiot.
He doesn’t resent Deacon for the attention he gets, though, happy to see him stop pouting and enjoy his cartoons again. Deacon can be a little annoying and mean sometimes, but Ted just has to remember that he’s only six and he’ll grow out of it. It makes him smile when the longer the night goes on, he feels Deacon slowly hug around him and yawn into his side. He does still wish they had some Hershey’s or Sweet Tarts to eat, but he knows it’ll just keep them both awake and give Dad more of a reason to get angry with him, something neither of them need.
Plus Deacon sounds like a piglet when he snores and it’s really funny.
It’s a quarter to 9 when Deacon finally falls asleep and Ted just manages to sneak away from his grip and grab the blanket laying over the back of the couch to drape over him. Mom and Dad promised they wouldn’t stay out later than 11, granting him permission to stay up late tonight and letting him know he’s got a long night ahead of him. As he moves to sit in his dad’s leather armchair, he wonders if he could manage to watch that showing of Halloween by himself without his brother waking up. Their parents never said that he couldn’t watch it, so he could try to talk his way out of it if he ended up being the one with nightmares about Michael Myers. Taking careful precaution to turn the volume down way low as he looks for it, he grins and settles in when he finds it just starting a few channels down from where they were.
And then there’s a knock at the door that makes him jump more than any movie could’ve.
He clutches the armrests of the chair, looking between a still sleeping Deacon and the foyer with nervous energy. It can’t be a trick-or-treater, Mom’s idea of leaving a bowl out in front of the door for kids to take candy from immediately squashed by Dad who assumed Ted and Deacon would eat all of it instead. Ted reasons that if he gets up and turns the light off, whoever it is will go away, so he does as quietly as he can so Deacon stays asleep. He waits by the door, staring at it and preparing to wait until he knows they’re gone, but a second round of knocks makes him whimper and curl into the wall. His mind wanders: what if it’s Riley who’s come over to egg his house? What if it’s a serial killer who’s gonna gut him alive? What if it’s Dad who’s forgotten something and might grab him and shake him once he sees the movie on TV?
The sound of a small voice sounding upset on the other end makes him slowly approach it, trying to figure out who it might be. Once he gets close enough to press his ear against the door, he hears another, much deeper voice say, “Maybe he’s asleep, it’s okay.”
“Then who turned the light off?”
He gasps. No way.
Forgetting Deacon snoring next to the foyer, Ted swings the door open to find Bill in ratty clothes that match his own with his back to him staring up at his dad. The other boy spins around once he hears it, beaming at him and saying, “I knew it!”
“Bill!” Ted sprints forward to hug him close, the bags Bill’s holding softly hitting in the back when he returns it. “What are you doing here?”
“I had to come see you, dude,” Bill answers when they pull away, a scowl on his face. “It’s totally bogus what they did to you.”
Mr. Preston chuckles softly behind him, patting his son’s shoulder while dressed in his usual business casual attire instead of a costume. “Your dad called earlier and said you couldn’t come so Bill didn’t want you to miss out.”
“Can we come in?”
Ted moves back to peek his head into the house when Deacon sighs in his sleep and turns onto his side. “Um, I don’t know if you should. Deacon’s asleep.”
Bill shrugs. “That’s okay. Just take this first before we go.”
He takes one of his bags with his free hand and holds it towards him, an expectant grin on his face as he waves it back and forth. Aside from the rattling inside as it moves, the splashes of color on the cloth bag catch his eye so he holds it up close once he takes it. “Is that Frankenstein? Excellent!”
“Yeah, it is.” Bill holds up his own bag that has a painted Dracula on and says, “I made them this morning for us and was most upset when I found out I couldn’t give it to you earlier. Thanks for the paints again, dude.”
Bill’s 10th birthday was in August and remembering how they met, Ted insisted his mom give him a little extra for his allowance so he could personally buy the best acrylic paint set he could find for him. After all the cool action figures Bill got him for his that summer, he had to repay him in the best way he could think of and the way the other boy looked proud of himself over his work made him know it was worth it. When the bag’s contents rustle again once he brings it down lower, Ted opens it to find it full of all sorts of candy. “Whoa!”
“I made sure every single house gave me extra for you since you couldn’t come,” Bill said, scratching at his neck right under the slash he drew across it. “Dad backed me up when they didn’t believe me.”
There has to be at least one of every candy brand in there and once he sets the bag down on the chair closest to the door, Ted immediately reaches for the first miniature Hershey bar he sees. “You didn’t have to do that for me,” he says while he unwraps it. “Thanks, dude.”
“I know - I wanted to!”
That makes Ted giggle as he eats that chocolate, his cheeks feeling flush even though he doesn’t know why. “You should totally come over tomorrow so we can sort through these. Trade for the best ones, y’know?”
When Bill looks up expectantly at Mr. Preston, his dad shrugs and says, “If his dad’s okay with it, so am I.”
Ted grins over the way Bill joins him the second time he says, “Excellent!” that night even if he does take care to see if Deacon’s stirred over it. He sniffles and twitches his head but just snuggles deeper into the couch, so Ted sighs in relief before moving back to look at Bill and say, “Thanks again, Bill. And you look most scarifying.”
“You too, Ted,” Bill says, reaching out to run his fingers through the stringy bits of fabric hanging from his sleeve before taking his hand a few times to swing their arms back and forth. “We match!”
The way both of their raggedy clothes move in tandem mesmerize Ted, wishing they’d gotten to go out together to really show off how cool they looked. “Let’s try these again next year.”
“Okay,” Bill says before letting go and waving. “See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Ted says, waving back excitedly as Bill and his dad make their way back to their car. He doesn’t stop waving until they’ve driven off and far enough out that he definitely knows Bill can’t see him anymore. He crumples his candy wrapper into a little ball and twists it in his fingers as he thinks about how happy he is to have a friend like Bill. There are a couple other kids at school that talk to him sometimes in his class, but he doesn’t feel like he can call them friends. They don’t do these nice things for him or take the time to make sure he’s not eating alone at lunch or watch and listen to the same stuff he does. They definitely don’t talk or think like him either and with Bill, he feels like he has a true equal.
He really, really likes Bill, maybe more than anybody else and even after tonight, he still hopes Bill likes him that much too.
“Ted?”
Deacon’s small sleepy voice makes him shut the door and toss his wrapper in his bag, knowing that their dad will ask a bunch of questions if he leaves it anywhere in the den. He sits next to Deacon before shutting off the TV, forgetting about Halloween completely in favor of pulling his blanket down under his chin and saying, “I’m here, what’s up?”
“Where’d you go?”
“Just went outside for a sec,” Ted answers, keeping his voice low to make the tiny, confused tone coming from his baby brother. “Bill came over.”
Deacon whines, another pout forming on his face. “No fair.”
“It was only for a second, I’m not leaving.”
“Better not,” Deacon sighs, so out of it as he nuzzles into the couch that Ted has to laugh. “Dad’ll get mad.”
“I know, little dude.” Ted hops off the couch to pull Deacon lightly, saying, “Let’s go to bed.”
Another stubborn little noise comes out of him, trying to shake him off, but he huffs after a second pull and slowly stands to join him. Ted doesn’t complain when Deacon haphazardly throws the blanket back onto the couch, leading him to the back of the house where their bedrooms sit next to each other. The younger boy’s feet shuffle as he walks and he stumbles once or twice, but Ted manages to get him in his room and under his covers where he immediately falls asleep once he’s comfortable. Even if he thinks his little brother means more to his parents then he does, Ted still likes him and wants him to be safe. It’s why he decides to be the one to go back into the den and cover himself up with that blanket instead to rest on the couch in case anybody decides to try and scare them.
Nobody has to know that he grabbed the bag Bill decorated for him and hugged it close to him while he rested his eyes until Mom and Dad came home, wanting to keep a piece of his best friend with him for the rest of the night.
______________________________________________
If there’s one thing Bill’s learned during his time in Lone Hill Middle School, it was that it was totally bogus in the most heinous of ways.
For one thing, it seemed like the second he and Ted started it that things they love to do like watch Saturday morning cartoons were lame and for babies. They can’t just wear whatever they want anymore, now getting goofed on for anything the more popular kids thought was uncool, and they can’t be their usual loud and silly selves unless they wanted to be called mongoloid and spaz by more than just Riley.
What sucks the most out of all of it, though, is that Ted isn’t really himself sometimes now that they’re just about to finish it.
Bill’s not really sure what happened, but once their current eighth grade status started, he stopped seeing Ted’s mom when he came over. He knew what divorce was, hearing the word occasionally when he strained his ears to listen to the arguments his own parents were having lately, but Mrs. Logan’s absence made Ted’s house feel empty. She was always so sweet when they interacted and now things felt so different with Capt. Logan sizing him up he showed up. Yeah, he’s been a hardass before, but now it seemed like Ted was on edge whenever he got on the bus before morphing into the best friend he knew.
Ted wasn’t a bad kid like his dad would give speeches to them about staying away from sometimes even if he had a bigger growth spurt than Bill did over the summer and looked a little more intimidating despite how slim he was. He talked back a little when Capt. Logan insisted that Bill had to go home when he said so or the other way around, but nothing that he needed to be scared over acting like. That’s why it felt good when Ted let himself be his typical goofy self around him when they were together, always making him laugh even when it was clear that he needed that relief more. They still have to deal with the occasional ribbing from Riley over just why they’re together all the time at school, but he was an idiot in a most unlovable way unlike them.
Besides, wanting to do everything he can to make Ted happy and thinking about ways to do it even while he’s by himself at home is not gay. That’s stupid.
Now it’s a few weeks into their first month and he hasn’t seen Ted yet aside today from their bus ride. The math class they have together isn’t until after lunch and he’s been desperate to have more time to talk about the new Kiss album and how it totally is good and people who think it sucks are wrong. His dad let him have a record player as a present for starting middle school and he’s been using it probably way more than he should, trading albums with Ted who managed to score his own during his last birthday. Maybe some of the rock records they had weren’t very appropriate for them, but what mattered is that they were really good and Bill was hoping to save up enough allowance for a guitar to try to play along with them.
Plus Ted said he had something to show him during their lunch period so as he picked at his less than appetizing lunch where he sat at their table towards the window, he hoped it would be something great.
Bill looks up from where he’s stirring his watery mashed potatoes to see Ted sprinting into the cafeteria, a paper bag with his lunch in one hand and a plastic baggy with something he can’t make out in the other. He hops excitedly when he sees him sat and ready before running to meet him, ignoring the way he brushes against a few of the more popular girls who yell at him to, “Watch it, dork!”
Once he’s there, he collapses into the seat to Bill’s left, grinning as he pants out, “Sorry, I’m late, Mr. Weaver was most egregious with his lesson today.”
That was his science teacher, Bill hearing through the hallway grapevine that he had a penchant for talking way too slowly during his classes. “It’s whatever, dude, you weren’t too late.”
Ted grins, the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth before he pulls out a ham and cheese sandwich from his lunch bag. He takes an enthusiastic bite of it before saying a muffled, “I brought you something.”
“What?”
He slides the plastic baggy onto the table and once he does, Bill leans in to give them a closer look. It looks like a bunch of bracelets clumped together like the set of gold and brown ones that Ted has around his right wrist. Just as he notices he’s got them on, Ted lifts his hand and shakes it with, “I made these last night. Mom left some of her fabric and stuff in the garage so I thought it would be a most enlightening endeavor to start making things with it.”
Bill remembers Mrs. Logan having no problem sewing a patch into Ted’s pants after a bad fall at the park a couple years ago, but didn’t realize she was that much into it to have all those materials. He personally still draws a ton in his notebooks, but Ted hasn’t painted as much recently so it’s nice to hear that he’s still doing something artsy even if it’s way different. “Cool, dude. Can I check them out?”
“Oh they’re yours, dude,” Ted says proudly before taking another bite of his sandwich. “The ones I have on didn’t turn out that good, but I thought you should get to have the best ones.”
They definitely did look more elaborate with much thicker material and more complicated patterns and Bill let himself take one out that was wrapped in green, purple, and another complementary color that made him look back up at Ted with, “I like the lemon.”
Ted laughs. “That’s yellow, my most confused friend.”
Bill shrugs. “Same difference.”
That just makes Ted laugh again with Bill joining him this time. He pulls out three more bracelets that all have that same shade of purple with different little twists to them and they feel soft under his fingertips. “These are really good, Ted. Why not keep them?”
Confused, Ted takes the initial bracelet that caught Bill’s eye and holds his hand out for Bill to give him his right arm. “You’re my best friend, Bill. I want you to have nice things.”
The gentle way Ted speaks to him alongside the even gentler way he puts that bracelet on for him as he does makes Bill forget they’re in the middle of their school cafeteria for everybody to see. There’s a soft concentration on Ted’s face and Bill finds himself noticing how nice his eyes are when he looks back up at him once it’s snuggly around his wrist with a proud declaration of, “It fits!”
He’s not sure why it makes his face feel hot to see him smile at him over it, but he doesn’t stop Ted from squeezing his hand in response to his, “Most triumphant.”
Bill figures Ted’s ready to see if the others do, but that never happens since before Ted can encourage him they hear the telltale laughter of one Riley Thompson coming towards them. While both Bill and Ted’s voices have dropped, neither of theirs comes close to how deep and terrifying Riley sounds when he speaks now which makes it all the more horrific when he reaches their table and says, “Havin’ a lunch date, homos?”
Ted’s the one who lets go of his hand first, turning back to his lunch to resume eating it while shaking his head. Bill doesn’t bother distracting himself, though, angry that their moment was interrupted and replying, “What’s homo about this?”
He holds up a middle finger at him with his now bracelet clad hand, learning that from a photo of Ozzy Osbourne he saw in one of the metal magazines he bought from the record store and Riley looks a little impressed. “You think that’s gonna make me cry, mong?”
“No,” he says honestly, still cognizant of Ted trying to shrink into his seat. “But Ted was just showing me these rad bracelets he made and that’s all.”
“Awwww,” Riley coos sarcastically, snorting before he looks at Ted. “You made ‘rad bracelets’ for your boyfriend, Ted?”
Ted mumbles around a small bite of his sandwich, only pissing Riley off more and making him slam his palm against the table to get him to repeat himself. Bill glares at Riley once he does, but is more concerned with Ted when the other boy jumps and finally mutters out, “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Do you want him to be? You can tell me.”
Lightly picking at the crust, Ted squirms in his seat and say, “He’s a boy and my friend, but-”
“So, uh hello,” Riley says, reaching out to hit his palm against Ted’s head. “Boy-friend. You’re too retarded to make fun of, I’m out of here.”
When he scoffs and turns to leave, Bill feels an anger that he’s never felt this hard since he heard Capt. Logan tell Ted to stop crying when they got back to Ted’s house after that fall years ago. “I hate him,” he whispers before looking at Ted. “I hate him most incredibly, dude.”
Making his heart ache, Ted only shrugs. “Dad says that boys who only hang out with other boys like we do are homos. Riley’s right.”
It might be how upset Ted sounds or it might be how smug Riley looks as he’s walking away that compels him, but Bill’s only instinct in that moment is to strike and protect Ted no matter what cost. He has no choice but to pick up the wrapped, large brick of an ice cream sandwich that the lunch lady gave him for dessert and hurl it at Riley’s head with a furious yell.
The way it collides with the back of his head hard enough to make a loud thunk makes Ted gasp and get up to run and hide in the closest corner of the cafeteria, but Bill’s happy to stand on his seat and wait for Riley to face him. Sounds of the other kids chatting among themselves come to a halt as they notice the standoff beginning, waiting with bated breath as Riley grabs the back of his head once he turns to stare him down. “Excuse me, Preston? Do you know who you just-”
“Shut up, Riley,” he cries out, his hands balled up into tight fists against his sides. “You’re mean, you’re ugly, and you don’t know anything about Ted!”
Riley laughs out loud even as he winces. “I know you’re total butt-buddies with him!”
“No, I’m not!” Bill hops down to pull Ted out of his corner and raise their joined hands up as he guides them to the front of the table with, “He’s not a homo and he’s my best friend, so you better shut up and leave us alone!”
“Bill, stop it,” Ted says under his breath. “I’ll be okay.”
“He needs to know, Ted,” he whispers back. “Don’t worry.”
Shaking his head, Riley sighs. “You’re just as much of a retard as he is.”
Remembering something else rude and crude from that magazine, Bill just shakes his head furiously and yells, “And you’re a most odious dickweed!”
The black eye he very quickly receives when Riley makes a beeline for him and shoves him against the wall is worth it, especially when the lunch lady rushes from her post to break them up and tell Riley what a little jerk he is. Ted forgets about his lunch to stay by his side as he’s led to the nurse’s office to get it looked at, only needing an icepak to hold up against it before he’s sent to the principal’s office to wait for his dad to pick him up. He has to admit that he’s a little bummed out that he let that ice cream sandwich go to waste since the desserts they get for lunch are always excellent, but at least Ted lets him have the Hostess cupcake he packed with his own to thank him for standing up for him.
As he eats it where he sits in the principal’s office, he already misses Ted even though he just air guitar’d outside the window to make him smile before he ran off to their math class. He was happy to do it back at him too, the way he could hear Ted laugh excitedly over it bringing that heat to his cheeks again when he thinks about it. Bill’s gotten blushy and soft over a girl or two before, but never another boy and he thinks about the way Riley hisses out “homo” at him when it hits him that he is now. It hurts when he does it, but only because he’s been taught to be hurt by it; Ted makes Bill feel like he’s on top of the world every time he gets to talk with him or even sit next to him. There’s nothing wrong with that and he can’t understand why he should feel ashamed of thinking about the way Ted ran his thumb over his hand in that blushy, soft way.
He’s definitely not gonna say anything to Ted about it, of course, but it was definitely another reason why Riley was a huge, ugly idiot.
______________________________________________
It’s one early Saturday afternoon in March after they leave Bill’s house and grab some tacos for lunch to celebrate a full morning of studying for their upcoming history test that Ted lets himself confess to the other boy that he wants to start a band once they’re sat on the curb outside of Circle K.
Bill looks up at him from where he’s drizzling hot sauce into his first of three hard-shelled prizes when he does. “Whoa. Really?”
Ted nods, unwrapping his own first of three soft-shelled tacos. “I think it would be most excellent,” he says as he focuses on his food instead of Bill. “You just bought that guitar at the mall the other day and I think I can convince my dad that it’s a ‘wise investment’ if I get a bass.”
The way he imitates his father makes Bill laugh, both of them knowing that Ted’s been getting criticized for buying too many records and action figures lately. He still had a year and a half of high school left so the idea that he had to grow up and stop spending money on things that made him happy to save up for a house already was absolutely bogus. Besides with his new plan in mind, he wouldn’t need a new house for a wife or whatever his dad rants about when he reprimands him because he could just travel the country in a cool tour bus with Bill instead.
...Okay maybe thinking that far ahead so soon was way too ambitious, but he does add, “We can get a drum set, keyboard, and some most attractive lighting so we can look good doing it.”
Bill nods thoughtfully. “Orange ones. Blue too, just like Van Halen.”
“Nobody can be Van Halen but Van Halen, dude.”
“We can try,” Bill says with his mouth full. “Who’s gonna do everything else, though?”
Ted hasn’t thought that far yet, the idea of anybody but Bill playing with him sounding strange to him. He chews pensively as he thinks, eventually shrugging and lying, “Maybe we can hold auditions.”
“No way.”
“Why not?”
“Because we can totally learn how to play the drums and keys,” Bill asserts before taking a long sip of his slushie. “Babes will find it most impressive if we know how to play multiple instruments.”
Ted frowns. “We don’t know how to play one instrument.”
Saying that out loud makes him wonder if there’s even a point in starting a band beyond getting to look cool, but Bill just laughs and asks, “How long can it take, dude? Eddie, Phil, Ace and everybody we listen to make it look so easy!”
Ted figures that’s true even if Van Halen, Def Leppard, and Kiss have been at this for years, making him doubt himself. He picks at the lettuce sticking out of his taco, asking, “What will we even sound like?”
“Whatever we want,” Bill answers like it’s easy. “It’s our band, right?”
Whenever Ted gets a stupid idea like climbing onto Bill’s roof to stargaze or convincing Bill during freshman year to ask out the way out of their league senior that’s somehow now Bill’s stepmom, the other boy is always immediately on board just like he is now. It makes him feel like he’s so much smarter than he is, especially now when he really doesn’t have anything in mind beyond messing around in the garage with him. Nobody else takes him seriously like Bill does; at least no other men he knows, having now vague memories of his mom enraptured by every silly thing he said when he was younger.
Maybe one day he’ll be able to ramble about nothing to her again.
But this is now and right now Ted’s pulling out his notebook out of his backpack and flipping past pages of doodles he and Bill made in class yesterday so they can start writing a list of name ideas. As Ted jots down each one, they get occasional droplets of cheese and hot sauce on the page while they eat, not caring since they’re so determined to find just the right one. He doesn’t even get too distracted by the way that Bill wraps the arm holding his slushie around his shoulders to keep close while they brainstorm, something that would usually startle him. The combination of Bill’s body heat and the chill radiating from his drink is a nice feeling and only makes him more relaxed while they call out names like Torrent, Weeping Embers, Ambush, and Sons of Comfort.
He doesn’t even get rattled by the way he and Bill’s temples are pressed together with how close they are.
Once they’re finished with their meals and ready to go inside for refills on their slushies before walking back to Bill’s, they settle on one that feels perfect. The second they land on Wyld Stallyns, Bill grins and takes Ted’s notebook and pencil to draw a horse from the neck up with flames for a mane with the space they have left. He circles the words to make a speech bubble for it before giving it back to Ted and saying, “Most triumphant.”
On impulse, Ted runs his fingers over it while taking care not to smudge it and it’s only when Bill stands to head into Circle K that he realizes what he’s doing. It’s been a while since he got some sort of piece like this from the other boy and he wants to cherish it, but he can’t let himself get weird about it. Ted feels weird enough over how he looks for clinging closer to Bill once high school started and honestly, incidents like him egging Bill on to ask Missy out or going on his own date with that girl who kept staring at him in math class were ways to make things look normal.
And yeah seeing The Monster Squad with Sophie Jordan was pretty great - at least during the moments where he wasn’t wishing that he brought Bill instead.
Yet he assured himself that it was only because all their favorite monsters were in it and not for the fact that when he and Sophie’s hands collided in their popcorn bucket and she shyly linked their fingers, Ted wondered what Bill’s hand would feel like instead. Now in the present once he and Bill have their drinks in hand on their trek back to the Preston home, Ted tries not to linger on how Bill’s lips are bright blue from the blueberry slushies they chose. It’ll only make Ted grin excitedly over how they match when he should be thinking about how it’s time to save up his allowance for that bass. He swears to God that high school has been an even closer time for them because he understood starting a new curriculum with the pain of a fresh divorce in your family and wanted to be there for him.
But now his dad is most satisfied with what was once the hottest babe in all of San Dimas High so that excuse isn’t gonna cut it anymore.
It’s all fine, though, with Bill still enjoying Ted’s company as he hangs out for longer to listen through the former’s record collection to see what sort of sound Wyld Stallyns should aim for. They have essays to work on for English but after massive improvement in that subject since they met, neither of them are too worried about it since their teacher is constantly impressed by them. Yeah maybe Ted didn’t quite know what the green light was actually supposed to symbolize in The Great Gatsby, but he got a B anyway for how well his own interpretation of it flowed. Bill had to tell him later using his own copy that sat on his bookshelf and much like now, he helped Ted collect his vague ideas of what a band could be and really turn them into something concrete with a not too heavy, but not too lame hair metal sort of feel in mind.
Bill had been helping Ted with so much for as long as he could remember that he was sure their essays probably read like the same person wrote them by now.
He would’ve stayed the night for more brainstorming if it hadn’t been for his dad calling the house and demanding he come home, Ted realizing that letting him know he had an essay due on Monday was a mistake. Bill swore it was fine and that he would start working on some lyrics to show him at lunch on Monday which made him feel better on his walk home. It even took away the sting of his dad chastising him for wasting time at the other boy’s house before insisting that he see proof that Ted had indeed worked on his essay like he claimed. Dad needing to see his notes or homework wasn’t unusual after he only just barely passed his math class at the end of eighth grade and Dad was determined to drill into his head how important it was not to screw up in regards to school.
Every time he argued about how unnecessary it was, what he thought was an empty threat of being sent off to military school started to sound more plausible every time it came out of Dad’s mouth.
The way Ted talked back would be blamed on Bill too, but that was such a bogus idea that he couldn’t understand it once his dad was satisfied enough with the outline he had ready for his take on The Crucible and let him go to his room. Bill wasn’t a bad influence on him or made him act ungrateful; he just made him feel more confident and sure of himself and if that meant Dad would have to hear Ted defend himself, then he could deal with it. He couldn’t wait to laugh about it with Bill tomorrow, planning to sneak out early after a quick breakfast so he didn’t have to deal with the proof that he finished his first draft of his essay to show Bill to help him proofread it.
It was, therefore, a problem that Bill was adamant that he stay out of the garage when he showed up.
Ted frowns at Bill where they stand as the door shuts, the other boy having sprinted out in a hurry when he noticed him coming down the sidewalk. “What’s up, dude?”
“Nothing, dude,” Bill says, glancing at the garage door behind him with a sigh. “It’s just, uh - most heinous in there right now. Dad’s cleaning out the place for Missy so there’s a ton of stuff in the way.”
“I can walk around it!”
“Ted.”
Bill’s voice is firm and his eyes are pleading, making the complacent grin on Ted’s face disappear. If it’s really just some extra clutter on the floor that’s the problem, it doesn’t make sense to be this adamant. Yet if there’s one thing he never wants to do, it’s hurt his best friend so he makes himself nod and say, “Uh, okay. I’ll stay out, Bill, promise.”
“Thanks, Ted. I’ll make it up to you.”
They air-guitar before Bill leads Ted in through the front door, his demeanor immediately back to normal as he starts asking about what part of the plot he decided to focus on for his essay.
He figures that’s the end of it once he leaves with a fresh new draft in his English folder once he leaves, but then he’s led through the front door the next time he comes over on Tuesday after school. Bill doesn’t acknowledge it, but it’s all Ted thinks about for the rest of the week, especially when Bill pivots to suggesting they just do what they can with the time they have at lunch instead of going to his house at all. Granted, it’s not a terrible idea; now that Riley’s joined the football team (and most definitely because of the hell Bill gave him a couple years ago even if he won’t admit it), he’s basically left them alone besides the occasional insult in the hallways. That means that not only will nobody at school bother them while they write, this gives them time away from prying parents and Deacon’s occasional ribbing about how they need girlfriends already.
Yet with all of that, Ted wonders if this is all an excuse and Bill saw what a creep he was with his drawing on Saturday and figured it would be safer in an environment where anything gay would be under the judgemental eyes of their peers. It sounds cruel and irrational, but irrational is exactly what he felt like when he ripped that page out of his notebook to put in his drawer with every other one of Bill’s drawings he had.
Once Saturday morning comes around, Ted’s made himself forget about it; after all, beyond keeping him from his house, Bill’s still acting like himself. He still gushes about how they can use his dad’s camera to film them playing their guitars once Ted buys his, still makes him laugh with little comments during their history lessons only meant for him to hear, and he still air-guitars with him in the middle of English class when they get their essays back on Thursday to find they both did well. Now that the weekend’s arrived and he’s had a bowl of cereal and a shower, he’s ready to go ahead and go to the mall so he can find a nice bass to surprise Bill with next time he comes over.
At least he was.
“Ted,” Deacon calls out from where he stands in the den, phone in hand after he’s answered it. “It’s for you.”
Ted turns his head from where he’s standing at the dishwasher after throwing his used bowl in there. “Who is it?”
Deacon rolls his eyes. “Who do you think it is?”
Ted grins and ignores the way Deacon sighs at the way he sprints over excitedly to take the phone from him, waiting until his brother walks away to say, “Hey, dude!”
“Hey, dude,” Bill repeats, sounding just as chipper. “You busy today?”
He thinks about inviting Bill to the mall with him, but instead shakes his head to no one in particular. “No, what’s up?”
“Want to come over?”
Ted tugs at the phone cord, using it to keep himself from getting too excited over the prospect of seeing Bill’s house again. “Sure, when?”
“Right now,” Bill says quickly, pausing to laugh softly. “If that’s cool.”
That was absolutely, most unbelievably cool.
Ted doesn’t outright run to Bill’s house once they get off the phone, not wanting to make too much noise and tip his dad off to the fact that he’s left without a word, but he does nearly trip onto the couch trying to get to the door. Deacon gives him an offhanded assurance that he won’t snitch on him for sneaking out which relieves him as he sprints to the backyard and grabs his bike to head to Bill’s side of town. Usually he’s fine with just walking over at a leisurely pace since their visits go on for so long that there’s no need to worry about wasting time, but it’s important to Bill that he come this early and fast.
It doesn’t matter that Bill refuses to tell him why.
The first thing Ted sees when he reaches his street is the other boy leaning against the garage door with his arms crossed in a worn sleeveless Mötorhead shirt and jeans covered in paint, a huge smile on his face once he sees his bike. “Dude, we gotta do a lap around town sometime!”
“Yeah, dude,” Ted calls out as he comes to a stop, his eyes lingering on the splotches of color against Bill’s denim. He feels meager in comparison to this look that has his cheeks turning pink while in his usual long t-shirt and shorts, but he tries not to stare too long. “You look most rustic, my most artistic friend.”
“I’ve been busy,” Bill replies, shrugging as he pushes himself off the door and reveals its remote in one hand once his arms are at his sides. “Want to see?”
Ted nods excitedly. “Is it for school?”
Bill’s smile turns into a smirk. “No way.”
With that he opens the garage, heading in once he has the room to and waving Ted in as he does. Ted still has to bend down an inch or two, but immediately his gaze is drawn to the large wheeled whiteboard standing in front of the wall directly across from them. It’s blank aside from some marker smudges here and there from past erasures and it’s clearly covering something hung up on the wall. “Bill, what is this?”
“It’s why I didn’t want you to come.” Bill leaves his side to grab the whiteboard and slowly wheel it away, saying, “I think it’s dry now.”
Ted can hardly believe it once he finally gets a good look at what it’s been hiding.
It’s their band. Loud and bright in front of him, smashing through silver stone from darkness are the words “WYLD STALLYNS” in beautiful orange and blue lettering in a large tapestry right here in Bill’s garage. He only thought about starting this band a week ago and Bill immediately went to work making a logo for them - for him . Ted finds himself laughing to himself, bright and happy as he steps closer to look over every individual crack and curve of each piece of stone. “How long did this take, dude?”
Bill sounds softer than he usually does behind him as he says, “It was most time-consuming. If I wasn’t doing school stuff, I was in here except when you came over Tuesday.”
“Wait,” Ted says, turning back to look at him. “Did you really spend all week painting?”
“Pretty much,” Bill answers, laughing like that should be obvious. “I wanted to get it done in time to show you today.”
“No way - absolutely no way!”
“Yes way.” Bill strolls over to join him, waiting until he’s up close to point at the “STALLYNS” and say, “I got up super early to get the shading under here. I only stopped because Missy caught me and made me eat breakfast.”
Ted frowns at him. “Don’t do that, Bill, breakfast is most important for you. It’s definitely way more important than some band or-”
“Shut up, Ted,” Bill says, his voice too gentle to be mad at him. “This band’s important. You’re important.”
The flush in Ted’s cheeks gets hotter at the way Bill’s gaze is trained on him, the sentiment eating away at him in the best way. When he got home last week and told his dad he and Bill were gonna start a band without thinking, his dad’s first and only reaction was rolling his eyes and saying, “Sure you are.” He moved on to pressuring him about his essay a millisecond later and it was enough to make him wonder if he had any chance of feeling like he got to do something for himself again and not for some imagined Ted that his father made up. The only person in his family that didn’t make him feel like that (or wasn’t apathetic about it like Deacon) was his mom and now that she’s gone, there’s nobody else who does.
Expect Bill. Bill who made him feel welcome when he hid behind a bush to see if the new kid wanted a friend, Bill who thought of him every time he was kept from something, and Bill who protected him from the people who wanted to hurt him. It was Bill that wanted to go on whatever immature or fruitless or whatever word Dad would describe the adventures he came up with and Ted felt something that he didn’t want to admit to himself.
He thinks it might be love. He’s not sure if he cares that it isn’t supposed to be right to feel it for Bill either.
“Thanks, dude,” he whispers, moving in to give him the sort of hug he’d been convinced was something they shouldn’t do anymore. “It’s most excellent.”
It takes him by surprise how quickly Bill returns it, squeezing around his middle and moving his head out of the way for Ted to rest his own on his shoulder. “We’re gonna have the best band ever.”
“You think so?”
“I know it, dude.”
The way Bill has his lips pressed to his cheek as he speaks makes Ted wonder if maybe Bill feels what he feels. He moves his head enough to look at him directly, his eyes drifting to his lips quickly before moving back to his eyes. “Bill?”
“Ted?”
The way Bill looks down at his lips quickly too makes Ted feel like he might explode but he doesn’t dare risk going for it. Instead he rests his forehead against his, swallowing thickly with creeping nerves filling his stomach, getting worse when Bill lets him stay there. Bill drags his hands to his waist as they shut their eyes, breathing in the same air and Ted hates that he can’t just move in and kiss him since it’s obvious that neither of them are hiding what this means. Yet he doesn’t dare, doesn’t risk screwing up this friendship that means everything to him even as he can feel Bill starting to move just those few inches enough to brush their lips together lightly enough to make him think he made it up.
And if it hadn’t been for the sound of the Prestons' phone ringing before Missy cheerfully answered it, Ted would’ve tried to figure it out.
Instead the two of them jump back, Ted smoothing his hair back and out of his face before resting his palms on the back of his neck while Bill leans against the wall next to their banner with a sigh. Now that they remember they aren’t alone, the coding begins with the two of them managing to breathe out laughs of one of Riley’s favorite derogatory slurs to call them and just like that the memory of what just happened disappears. That’s just what they have to do if they don’t want to think about it anymore, something Ted’s all too happy to do with how relieved Bill looks. He shouldn’t be that happy, but now they have a band to think about so he can’t make things tense between them now.
Thinking on his feet, he thinks he finds a quick save by asking, “Do you want to go to the mall, dude?”
Bill perks up at the sound of that. “Right now?”
“Yeah,” Ted responds, gesturing to Bill’s guitar sitting along the wall. “Gotta get my instrument now, right?”
“That’s a great idea, my most brilliant friend.” Bill heads for the garage door, turning back to say, "Just let me get out of these gross paint clothes first, then I’ll grab that so we can go.”
He points to the bike hanging on the wall next to the banner, making Ted grin and nod. “We can ride around town like you said.”
“Oh dude, that’s right - most excellent!”
They air-guitar before Bill heads out to change, making Ted feel like things are normal and fine again. A part of him wishes he could stay in the warmth they made if only for just a second, but the two of them have worked without it for so long that maybe he’s just imagining how good it was. He’s only reacting like this because it’s been so long since they’ve been on their own like this, that’s all.
If it wasn’t for him overreacting over something he should be used to by now from Bill, Ted wouldn’t be so head over heels for him, but he can make himself push that down. He has before, so why stop now, right?