Work Text:
There are three distinct stages of thunderstorms.
The first is calm, wind sweeping past your ears and clouds hanging low overhead. The rain is almost there, but not quite; it’s something in the air, untouchable but oncoming.
The second is a deluge, rain thunking against the glass windows and sinking into the ground. It’s heavy and the sky is dark, but there’s something utterly refreshing about the water sliding down your face. You can’t hide from the rain.
The last is silence, the scent of damp leaves and dirt filling the air. The sun peeks through the clouds, light filling the area. People are quiet, content, as life starts again.
There are three distinct stages of thunderstorms, and Fitz has been through them all.
Calm
Light shines across the carpeted floor, throwing half of Fitz’s book into shadow as he leans over it. He’s sprawled on the ground of their too-large living room, doing his best to study for the upcoming French final. It’s not working very well.
He glances up at Dex, who’s curled up on the couch, furiously pushing buttons on his calculator. Fitz isn’t entirely sure what he’s trying to do, but he knows better than to interrupt. Instead, he moves forward and just… watches.
Dex’s hair glows amber in the sunshine, and a small smile plays at the corner of his mouth as he presses another button. He does this a lot- gets so utterly engrossed in his newest project that the rest of the world doesn’t matter. Like it’s just him and whatever he’s looking at.
Right now, light on his face and French book abandoned on the floor, Fitz thinks he might understand that.
There’s been something nudging at the back of his mind lately, some secret that’s coming out of the box he tends to shove all his thoughts in. Something that should be obvious if he thinks about it.
He doesn’t think about it.
The thing is, life is good right now. His father has finally left, his mother is actually being a mom , Biana’s happier than he’s ever seen her. And he and Dex are friends, real friends, after what seems like years of animosity and thinly-veiled insults. He’s not going to unleash whatever secret’s lurking in his brain and tear it all to shreds.
He’s heard of the calm before the storm, but there won’t even be a storm if Fitz can just push all this down and deal with it later.
He moves over to the sofa, sitting down on the opposite end from Dex as the other boy groans.
“What?” Fitz asks. Dex throws him the calculator, which is currently reading -0. “Wait, that’s not a number.”
“I know, ” Dex says, flopping across the couch and leaning his head on Fitz’s shoulder. Fitz freezes at the sudden contact. “This calculator’s broken, I swear.”
“Must be,” Fitz manages, forcing himself to relax. Dex leans forward, a strand of hair hanging over his forehead, and the box in Fitz’s brain starts to open a little. He slams it closed and takes a deep breath. “You should get a new one. I think they sell them at Rite-Aid.”
Dex wrinkles his nose. “No one wants a Rite-Aid calculator. Those are even worse than this one is.”
“I see you have strong opinions on this,” Fitz says dryly. Dex laughs, and Fitz swears the room gets ten times brighter.
The box in his mind cracks open the tiniest bit, and Fitz doesn’t close it.
Deluge
There’s a small park near Fitz’s house- just a sandbox, a swing set, and a small climbing structure. At two AM, it’s empty, the streetlamp casting dim light over dirty benches and odd plastic turf. Fitz takes a seat on one of the swings, idly kicking the ground as he moves back and forth.
Here, in the night air, he can breathe. He can think.
“You need to think,” Biana says, crossing her arms. “You know. You know what you’re feeling. You just need to accept it.”
“I’m not feeling anything,” Fitz throws his hands in the air. “And even if I was, it wouldn’t matter.”
“What? Of course it does-”
“No, it doesn’t. Nothing’s going to happen.”
“Not if you don’t let it! Just try, Fitz, what’s the worst that could happen?” Biana stares at him, eyes narrowed. She doesn’t understand. She never understands.
“I could fuck this up just like I fucked up our family!”
The words come out louder, harsher than he meant them too. Biana takes a step back, shaking her head.
“Fitz, you didn’t-”
“Yeah. I did.”
He needs to stop thinking. (He can’t stop thinking.)
The worst part is that Biana is right. He does need to accept this, to figure out a way to approach it without blowing everything up. He just doesn’t know how to do that.
“Fitz?”
Dex sits down on the swing next to him, face wrinkled with concern. “Is everything okay? Biana called me-”
“I’m fine,” Fitz says firmly. “You didn’t need to come over.”
“You’re not fine,” Dex responds, turning his swing to face Fitz. The metal frame above them creaks ominously. “Bi says you’re thinking about your dad again.”
Fitz’s hands tighten on the cold metal of the swing’s chain. “My mom’s sad. She misses him.”
Dex sighs softly.
“You know that’s not your fault, right? It’s not your fault he left.” He pauses for a second. “And he was kind of an asshole anyway. Your mom probably just needs someone her age to be around again.”
Fitz keeps his eyes fixed on the ground. Gently, Dex’s foot nudges his ankle.
“I mean it. It’s not your fault he’s gone, it’s not your fault he hurt you and your family, it’s not your fault he just fucked you guys over and left.”
“I should have- I don’t know. I should have done something. ”
“What?” Dex sounds angry, now. “What could you have done, Fitz? What could you have possibly done to stop him?” He reaches for Fitz’s hands, carefully uncurling them from the swing. “You were a kid. You’re still a kid. You can’t blame yourself for what he did.”
You can’t blame yourself for what he did.
Fitz takes a deep, shaky breath. “Thanks.”
Dex offers him a small smile. “Anytime. You sure you’re okay?”
“I will be.”
They sit in the quiet night for a long time, just swinging back and forth. Fitz looks over to the other boy, who seems to glow even in the dim light. He’s tired of lying to himself.
“I love you.”
The words float off his tongue, and he feels… lighter, somehow, even as the enormity of what he’s just done comes crashing down. Dex stops swinging.
“I- I love you too.” His tone is measured, careful. Like he’s trying not to say too much. Fitz shakes his head.
“No. No, I mean- I’m in love with you.”
“Oh.” Dex’s eyes widen, but he’s smiling. Grinning, really, lighting up the park just like he always does. “Good.”
“Good?”
Dex takes his hand, squeezing it tight. “Good.”
Silence
Sixteen small candles flicker and die as Biana blows them out, cheers echoing across the room. Laughing, she reaches for the cake server.
“Happy birthday, Bi,” Fitz says. She grins at him and ruffles his hair.
“Yep. I’m gonna steal your car now that it’s legal for me to drive.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You do realize Mom and Livvy offered to buy you your own, right?”
“Well, yeah,” Biana shrugs. “But where’s the fun in that?”
Fitz rolls his eyes as Dex comes up to the two of them, slipping his hand into Fitz’s and grinning down at him.
“Hey, happy sixteenth,” he tells Biana. “Have fun with Fitz’s car.”
“Why does everyone condone her stealing my car?”
Biana cackles and pats him on the shoulder. “I’m afraid you’ll never know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go talk to Linh.”
Dex leans over as soon as she’s gone. “You okay?” he whispers. Fitz nods.
“Yeah.”
“I’m glad,” Dex squeezes his hand. “I love you.”
“I still can’t believe I can say that to you,” Fitz says. Dex snorts.
“Yeah, I’m surprised you worked up the courage to tell me. Don’t you keep all your feelings in a box?”
Fitz reaches up and flicks him on the nose. “Shut up.”
“Hey, lovebirds!” Biana calls from where she stands, holding a gigantic alicorn pinata. “C’mon!”
Fitz and Dex exchange a look, both smiling. Then Fitz squeezes their linked hands and the two step forward.
There are three distinct stages of thunderstorms.
The first is calm, light shining through a window and a broken calculator. It’s something in the air, untouchable but oncoming.
The second is a deluge, words shouted in an empty park at midnight. It’s the truth, ugly as it can be. You can’t hide from the rain.
The last is silence, candles flickering out and a group of friends gathered for a party. It’s quiet, contentment, as life starts again.
There are three distinct stages of thunderstorms, and with Dex, Fitz has been through them all.