Archive of Our Own

Summer break is over so tourists are gone, but it's still summer, so Santa Monica is busy on a Sunday. Willie doesn't mind; it gives him more to do—skating in a straight line isn't as fun as weaving through crowds of people. Okay, he admits, getting cussed at when he cuts someone off isn't the greatest, but he never means to and he always says sorry, so really, dwelling on it would just kinda suck. It's not like he ever runs anyone over—just cuts his turns a little tight sometimes. It's no problem, really.

He'd really rather be at the skate park, but Taylor drove him and their parents won't let him stay at the skate park alone. They'll let him skate the beach while Taylor is here though, so. He takes what he can get. He may not have a bowl or rails to use, but he can still do plenty when he finds the space. He just needs to find the space—which means actually picking his head up and looking around for once. (Oh, god, he sounds like his mom when she tells Jamie to look up from her phone every once in a while.) He starts paying more attention to his surroundings—still giving mind to those he's passing—looking for an open area of pavement where he can practice some flips.

There's a group of kids running across in front of him so he takes his back foot off his board and skids it along the pavement to slow himself down. A tired looking woman follows close behind, waving a hand in thanks to him, and he nods at her. He looks over to the kids, who are now jumping on the swings, and then something catches his attention in the corner of his eye. His eyes flick to the bright, blond hair that he's become reacquainted with the past few months at the beach and the last week at school—fine, week and a half but everyone knows that the first real week of school is the second week. They don't do shit that first Thursday and Friday, it's pointless to go; like, all they did in history those two days were decide their countries for their final projects (Willie got some small place called Beasiga) and go over the syllabus. It was pointless, okay?—after unknowingly missing it in the years following elementary school. His foot presses harder against the ground, bringing him to a complete stop.

It's not like he's weird for remembering Alex from elementary; everyone who played kickball remembers Alex—he was the best kicker, everyone wanted him on their team. Every day when captains were choosing teams Willie would hear 'Alex!' or 'Taylor!' as soon as the first captain was given the go ahead to choose. Every time he'd see Alex stand up with a red face and slowly walk over to stand behind the captain who chose him, as if he was surprised each time. But. Kid had a leg. And—so, anyways, his face really hasn't changed that much since elementary. Neither has his obnoxious hair. (Seriously? Who needs hair that bright? It's like a flare when the sun catches it—calling for attention, screaming to be noticed. So, like, can you blame Willie for noticing him?)

And it's definitely him, Willie knows because he's been seeing him around the beach all summer and… has maybe taken notice, okay? Plus, he's surrounded by the people he's been with at school for the past week: the lanky black haired kid, the kid who always had a shit eating grin, a kind looking, smiley Latina girl, and a laid-back Black girl with long braids. They're all sitting in a group of trees laughing together and Willie watches them, wondering what could be so funny to make Alex grip at his side and fall over into the sand. Whatever it is, Willie wants to send a thank you note to it because—well. That's fucking adorable. His face is so open, so energetic, so bright. Willie thinks: how do I make that happen? How do I get him to react to me like that? Well, that would require interaction first, but. He's getting there, maybe. 

A biker calls out a quick 'on your left!' and Willie snaps his head around, leaning out of the way even though that won't do shit since his skateboard is very much not leaning with him, but the biker is, as she said, on his left anyways. That snaps him out of his trance and he looks around. He was definitely staring, probably for a good thirty to sixty seconds. Normally he's a little bitter that Alex is so wrapped up in his friends that he doesn't notice Willie, but this time he's grateful. Because like, what the fuck? Why the fuck? Who the fuck does that? Willie does now, apparently.

… he also kind of wants to keep watching.

He looks around and sees that, for the most part, this stretch of pavement is relatively open. He can practice his flips here, right? That's not weird, right? They won't even notice, right? Even if they did notice it's not like they'd care, right? He's just a skateboarder practicing flips, right? That's it. That's all. It's all good.

Mind made up, he pushes his foot off the ground, propelling himself forward. He'll just do a few back and forths of the area while doing his flips, keep himself moving so he's not in one place. His eyes flick to Alex and his group. Keep himself moving so he can appreciate… the… views…?

View, noun: something, something, the nice thing that you can see from where you are, something, something.

Alex is a nice thing he can see from where he is. It works, okay?

As always, he starts out with some easy flips—kickflips and heelflips, throwing in a few varial versions of the two as he goes. He lands each one confidently, having been doing so for years at this point. He lets his eyes flick back to Alex and he presses his lips together. He'd thought earlier that they wouldn't notice—but… maybe? He throws in a sigma flip, very nearly not landing it, but managing it with a little wobbliness. Then a 540, then back to the basics again, just to keep himself from getting over ambitious which… he might do on another day. But he wants Alex's attention by being impressive, not by falling on his ass. But, well, he did intend to practice, and maybe… falling on your ass can still be impressive, right? Like—try, try, try again. Perseverance, right? That's hot, right? Fuck, how the fuck does this impressing people shit work?

He decides that his intention was to practice, so he does. He wants to learn a nightmare flip, so he works on it, going back and forth between doing double flips to get the feeling of it, and also trying the actual flip (which leads to falling on his ass). It's not that he's not doing the flip right, it's just that his knees are too loose so when he lands, the board slides right out from under him. He's not frustrated about it, not yet, but he knows he'll be getting there in a few minutes. He needs to take a breather for a minute, though.

For so long he's been focused on practicing, he hasn't even spared Alex a glance. When he finally sends a glance in that direction, trying to be like, chill about it, he does a much more obvious double take because—Alex isn't there.

Alex is gone, but all of his friends are still there, still joking around and laughing together and? Alex? isn't?

Well, why the fuck not?

He looks down the beach both ways, trying to decide what to do. The most likely scenario is that Alex went to the bathroom. There's a restroom right behind them, so Alex should be back in a matter of minutes. But after a couple more minutes of Willie practicing he's not. Willie frowns, wondering if maybe Alex had just… left. Maybe his parents had picked him up separate from his friends and he had gone home.

He sets off skating towards the pier where Taylor and her friends are, still keeping his eyes peeled for Alex. Maybe he went to get food? Or a drink? Maybe he's a jogger and was getting in his daily jog? Okay, okay. Yeah, Willie's stretching. … maybe Alex is stretching too, up and walking around—

Okay, yeah, he gets it, he's being ridiculous.

He looks back at the group of trees one more time before he gets too far away to see if Alex has come back yet and, to his disappointment, sees no head of blond hair. He turns to face forward and—

He swerves as sharply as he can manage, startled by a couple walking in front of him. He thinks he's in the clear, but only for a second, because the fucking flare hair is back, yelling for his attention, but it's directly in front of him and he doesn't have time to stop before—

"OOF!"

"Ow…"

"Ugh…"

Willie sits up, disoriented and now feeling even sorer than his falls from earlier had made him, and pushes himself to his feet and reaches for his board. "Aw, man. You dinged my board."

The other person stands up. "Wh—I dinged your board? Dude—you ran me over! You're lucky I didn't die!"

Oh, right. Willie looks up, remembering now who he ran over. He is indeed lucky that Alex didn't die. "Oh, shit yeah, man, I'm sorry I, uh, smashed into you," he says, reaching up to undo the buckle on his helmet. He takes it off and flips his hair, fluffing it out and tucking it behind an ear hoping his helmet hair isn't too bad for his first impression to Alex. Unless, of course, Alex remembers him from elementary school, but. Willie wasn't an in demand kickball member like Alex was, so he doubts it. He can't really get a read on Alex's face—it looks entirely blank with his hooded eyes and parted lips like his brain is on a stall—until Alex's eyes light up.

"Oh, hey, you're—uh, you're Willie, right?"

He grins. Maybe he made an impression some other way. "Yeah."

"You, uh, probably don't remember—"

"Alex."

"… yeah."

Willie smiles at the shocked tone in Alex's voice. There's a long pause and Willie thinks: please don't let this conversation end here. So he looks around before letting his eyes wander back to Alex as he asks, "so, uh, what brings you to Santa Monica, man? Pacific Park? The ocean?" He glances at the ground. "An intense love of hot dogs?"

"What?" Alex frowns, then looks down. "Oh. Oh my god, no. Those are… were for all of us."

"Who's us?" he hums, as if he hadn't been watching us for thirty minutes.

"Uh, me and my band," Alex says, "and our manager." He looks around, then leans in. "Really, they're my friends, but band and manager sound cooler."

Fuck him, that's adorable. "Yeah, band? Have I heard of you guys?"

"No, probably not, we just like, started last year and we've only played a few gigs," he says. "But uh, we're Julie and the Phantoms. Tell your friends."

"For sure, man," Willie says. "Who's this… Julie? Are you one of the phantoms? Why are you a phantom?"

"Oh, she's the lead singer. I am one of the phantoms. The first time we ever played together was near sunset outside and there were these really massive shadows of us, like we weren't even really there. Our manager came up with the name. Though I've never been so close to being an actual phantom until you tried to crack my head open."

Willie giggles. He actually fucking giggles. Fuck him. "I did pancake you, huh?" Alex gives him a small smile, but it's not all there. So. Not over that, yet. Hopefully he will be one day. "I'm… sorry," Willie says, trying to push as much sincerity into his voice as he can. "Um, so, since I ruined all your hot dogs I should replace them, right? Come on," he says, motioning for Alex to follow.

"Wh—no, you don't have to—"

Willie turns back and raises an eyebrow.

"—you really don't—"

He quirks it higher.

"—… o…kay." Alex jogs the few paces that he fell behind and they start towards the pier. "You know you really don't have to—wait. Should we pick the other hot dogs up?"

Willie pauses, looks back, and frowns. "I need someone like you in my life," he says, and starts back towards the hot dogs. He starts gathering them up. "Never would have crossed my mind."

Alex laughs and crouches down and grabs the last of them. "So what, you're a serial litterer?"

"No," Willie says, "I don't leave things around so I'm not put in the position where I have to remember to pick it up because I know I would litter. Once it's out of my sight it's out of my mind."

Alex is quiet. Then, "That sounds dangerous."

"Oh, it is."

Alex laughs and Willie thanks whatever fucking deities may or may not exist that his hands are full of his skateboard and hot dogs so he doesn't have to explain to Alex why he's fist pumping. It's just—the sound is even better a) up close and b) when Willie is the one who causes it. He looks over and Alex is smiling and—yep, it's even better when Willie is the one who causes the smile too. So, his goals in life shift:

Goal 1: make Alex Taylor smile

Goal 2: make Alex Taylor laugh

Goal 3: do a full gazelle flip with no pivot

Goal 4: maybe get into a good college?

He'll reevaluate number four at a later date and maybe add some more goals on as well, but for now, he's happy with the list. It feels like a list that's geared towards making him happy, and isn't that what your goals are meant to do? The goal in life is to be happy, so your goals should make you happy and achieving these goals would make him happy. But like, maybe an amendment to goals one and two: 'make Alex Taylor smile/laugh as often as possible.' There. Now his goals are set.

… Goals doesn't sound (can it still sound even if it's in his head and therefore making no noise?) like a real word anymore.

"So you're a LFHS now, right?" Alex blinks and looks at Willie, surprise written clear across his features. "I've seen you in the halls."

"Oh. I think I've seen you too. I didn't know if it was you or not because I didn't know if you… what performing art you did."

"Dance," Willie says. Alex stumbles and Willie looks at him. His face goes red and he mumbles an apology. Fucking adorable. "I'm guessing you're in music? With your band?"

"Yeah," Alex nods, still slightly red. He clears his throat. "Uh, I play drums and sing? Then Julie, our lead vocalist, she plays piano, and then Luke plays guitar and he's our male lead vocals, and Reggie plays bass and does back up vocals with me."

"What about your manager? I've seen her around school too. What does she do?"

Fuck—fuck he just gave himself away. Fuck—Alex is going to know Willie was watching them, Alex is going to know Willie was lying, Alex is going to know—

"Oh, Flynn, she plays trumpet and sings, also in the music program," he says, completely missing the fact that Willie definitely shouldn't have known to ask about Flynn. Here's hoping he doesn't realize later. God, Willie feels like a literal smiley face right now, the ones that look like they're just waiting for the world to explode around them. Because really, he's just waiting to hear a boom.

"That must be nice," Willie hums. "I can't do shit with music."

"I mean… you can dance to it," Alex says. "Which is really impressive. I haven't seen the dance team this year but I've seen them in the past and they're really impressive."

"You'll have to come watch us," Willie says. "And you've gotta let me know when you're playing next, and I'll definitely be there."

"We're auditioning for the Fall Exhibition in a few weeks, so, we might be in that? Otherwise we pretty much just play whatever pubs and restaurants let us play. Sometimes we play house parties."

"Well, you'll definitely get into the Exhibition. I feel it," Willie says. "My sister and I are auditioning for the Fall Exhibition too. She and I choreographed the dance over the summer."

"You choreo?"

"Sometimes," he shrugs. "I like… I have to actually have an idea? You can't just give me a song and I can come up with choreo for it. But sometimes I hear a song and get ideas, and my sister does choreo, so she fills in what I can't."

"Still, that's amazing that you can do any at all," Alex says, awed. Willie feels his face heat up and he looks to the ground quick, letting his hair curtain around his face so Alex won't be able to see his darkening cheeks. Fucker. (Cute fucker.) "I love dancing but I just do it for fun."

"I mean, so do I," Willie says, still looking at the ground. "I don't think I'm ever going to make a career out of dance but I'm good at it and it's fun, so… I do it." He looks up. "What about you, hot dog? Do you write your own music?"

Alex opens his mouth and then pauses, narrowing his eyes. "I… really don't like that nickname. It's a reminder of how I almost died." Willie giggles again, so like, what the fuck. Listen, Alex is cute—like, ridiculously cute—and so far he's at least as interesting as Willie has been hoping he would be. But Willie also, like. Has to make Alex like him. That's gonna be tough as shit if he can't keep his shit together whenever Alex does something hella cute. "But, uh, yeah, we do. I write all the drum parts, we all work on the melodies and harmonies together, and the lyrics… it depends. Julie and Luke write a lot of our songs, but Reggie and I write some, too. And we also make tweaks to Julie and Luke's lyrics."

Willie raises his eyebrows. "Whoa. Impressive, dude."

"You don't even know if our songs are any good."

"You don't know if my choreo is any good."

"… fair point."

Don't fucking giggle. Don't fucking giggle. Don't fucking giggle.

He giggles.

Fuck.

"So, uh, not to… not to sound weird but. I saw you skateboarding earlier," Alex says. Willie grins. Point: Willie. "You're really good at that. Well. Up until the end. Then you started to fall a lot, but it looked like you were trying something?"

He's not going to be embarrassed because Alex got it. He was trying something. "I was, yeah! It's called a nightmare flip. Not as scary as it sounds, but still pretty tough. It's a varial double kickflip—so pretty much I'm flipping the board along it's axis twice," he says, lifting the board up and twisting it out in front of him to show off what he means by axis, "and then turning the board a hundred and eighty degrees under me, so the nose goes to the tail."

Alex blinks. "Wh—okay? So, like, you're flipping the board over its side twice?"

"Yeah! And then the nose," Willie says, nodding to the front of his skateboard, "swings around to become the tail."

"That… okay. That doesn't sound possible."

"Oh, it definitely is. It's just not for me… yet. I'm hoping within the next few days I'll get it. I'm getting closer. I can do it, I just can't land it without my board sliding out from under me yet."

"Well," Alex says, "I believe in you."

Willie's stomach flips. Ew. He's not a fan of that feeling. Unless he's just hungry? He's going for that option a) because it makes more sense and b) because it's less embarrassing. They're nearly to Pacific Park now anyways, so Willie should just get a hot dog too.

Oh.

That's a good idea. Get a hot dog and ask to join them. After all, one of the best ways to get to know someone is to hang out with them and their friends. He doesn't remember much about Luke or Reggie but he doesn't remember them being bad or annoying kids. He knows nothing about Julie or Flynn, but Alex seems chill, so they're probably chill too. And most kids at Los Feliz High are… nice… if you also go to Los Feliz High, so they won't turn someone from school away. The chances of them denying Willie are low. So… new plan? New plan.

"Thanks," he says. 'Thanks' doesn't carry a conversation though. He picks through his brain trying to remember how to talk to new people. He swears he didn't have this much trouble meeting people on his dance team last year. But, well, he didn't feel the need to carry conversation with people on his team. It just kind of happened because of circumstance. With Alex though, he wants to talk to him, wants to get to know him. What is a good question that would sound casual after five minutes of conversation but tell Willie about Alex? "What have you gotten up to this summer?"

Fuck. Was that too mom-like? Yeah. Yes it was. Really, 'gotten up to,' who the fuck talks like that?

"Oh, not too much," Alex shrugs. "Hey, we've passed like five garbage cans and we're still carrying these hot dogs."

"Huh? Oh, shit."

Alex laughs. He nudges Willie with an elbow directing him to one a few feet away from the Pacific Park entrance. They toss the hot dogs in the trash and head towards the park. "Yeah, but, I haven't done too much this summer. A lot of band practice. A lot of reading. Netflix. I have two younger siblings so I've been baby-sitting, too. I lead a very exciting life."

"Sounds like it," Willie grins. "What've you been watching on Netflix?"

"Uh, last show I finished was American Vandal?"

Bingo. "No way, dude, I love that show."

Alex's eyes light up and Willie would fucking pay (which is saying a lot, he's a high school student without a job) to keep that expression on this kid's face. It blazes like the sun, so bright that Willie can't stand to look at it for more than a few seconds at a time. Not in fear of eye damage, but in fear of losing his fucking mind. It gets even worse when Alex starts talking about the show, gesticulating with his hands and his voice inflected with so much emotion over a fucking TV show. When Willie responds, Alex listens attentively—he looks like he's paying no mind to the world outside of the two of them. Willie is slowly dying inside and it's cool. It's fine, really, because what a way to go, right?

They talk about the show all through their walk through Pacific Park to the hot dog stand, and then Willie steps up to the cart and asks for six hot dogs.

Alex frowns. "It was only five."

"I'm joining you guys," Willie tells him. (So much for asking.) 

Alex blinks. "O… kay." And then he smiles, so Willie knows he's not unwelcome. When the hot dogs are served, Alex takes four and Willie takes two, and they begin the trek back to Alex's friends.

"They're probably wondering where I am," Alex says once they manage to get out of Pacific Park.

"Yeah, well, I'll take the blame."

"Of course you will," Alex huffs, "since you are to blame."

"I take it back. I'm going to tell them that I saw you trip down the stairs and I was the good samaritan who helped you."

"Oh, come on, don't turn my… piers against me," Alex says, glancing down at the pier they are walking on, and then up at Willie again.

His heart flutters. What the fuck. This is very much not good Willie realizes. Still, he drops his head and laughs, shoulders shaking as he tries to suppress it.

"Come on," Alex cries, "that was good." No, Alexander, Willie had just pointedly thought that this was not good.

"Nah, man, I don't think making beach puns was your intended porpoise."

Alex tosses his head back and laughs. Willie flicks his eyes over and—that. That's the laugh that he wants to get out of Alex for the rest of forever. Eyes closed, nose scrunched up, eyebrows creased. He looks carefree and lighthearted. See, Willie doesn't know how to explain it, but the way Alex carries himself, it looks like he's carrying a constant weight over his shoulders. But when Alex laughs or smiles wide enough that weight seems to disappear and Willie likes making that weight disappear.

They trade as many beach and ocean and water puns as they can think of back and forth until there's a white flag thrown up—literally.

"Are you trying to make me emoceanal?" Alex says, and Willie shakes his head. He moves his skateboard from his hand and tucks it under his opposite arm and pulls out the white piece of paper that's holding one of the hot dogs.

"I surrender," he says, waving it around in front of Alex's face. "I give in, just—just stop with the puns."

"You don't want to shell-ebrate my victory with me?"

"Man," Willie groans, taking the hot dog he'd taken the wrapping from and taking a bite out of it. He shakes his head and, with a full mouth, says, "you ask one thing of him—stop using puns—and does he stop using puns? No!"

Alex huffs. "Right? You ask one thing of him—don't try and kill me—and does he not try and kill me? No!"

"You never asked me not to try and kill you. You still haven't."

"I feel like it's sort of implied? I exist, hey, people around me—don't kill me, thanks."

"Well, yeah, but—but you never asked."

Alex rolls his eyes and Willie is struck by how attractive that is. Sweet. Cool. This is fine. Not only is Happy Alex wildly attractive but now Mildly Annoyed Alex is also wildly attractive. Sweet. Cool. This is fine. "Okay. In the future could you try not to kill me?"

"I can certainly try."

"Considerate."

"I certainly try."

Alex grins and Willie grins back.

"Finally!" a voice cries, and Willie looks up to see the floppy haired kid with the shit-eating grin running through the sand to get to them. "Take for forever, why don't you," he says, grabbing a hot dog from Alex and eating half of it in one bite. He turns to Willie. Shit-eater's eyebrows go up and he turns to Alex and Willie looks to Alex to see what that's about, but Alex leaves them before Willie gets a good look, walking towards the rest of the group. Shit-eater somehow manages to chew around the obnoxiously large bite he took and swallows. "Willie, right? We went to elementary together."

"Yeah," Willie says. "Didn't know I was memorable. Sorry, I don't remember which one you are. Luke or Reggie?"

"Luke. And man, you used to do all those cool flips and tricks—coolest kid on the playground at recess. Apart from me of course," Luke says and, though he says it with confidence, it's clearly a joke. Willie smiles at him. "C'mon, come meet the rest of the group."

Willie follows behind Luke who practically skips back to where his friends are sitting. It was one thing for Alex to accept Willie joining their group, after all Willie had invited himself and maybe Alex just didn't know how to say no, but for Luke to do so too? For Luke to be the one to invite him over to the group? Willie doesn't think he has anything to worry about with this group.

He's immediately proven right once he gets to them. No one questions his arrival—they all greet him with friendly smiles, though Flynn makes a horrified face and looks at the rest of the guys and then to Julie and goes "they're multiplying." Everyone laughs and Reggie lets out a mock offended "hey!" that Willie can tell is playing along. Alex reaches up from where he's sat for the hot dog that Willie hasn't taken a bite out of and takes it from him, having passed the rest off to his other friends. "Right—everyone, this is Willie. Willie, this is Luke, Julie, Flynn, and Reggie."

Willie sits next to Alex, setting his skateboard down and starts pointing at them in turn. "Guitar, piano/lead, manager, bass."

Reggie's face lights up. "Alex! You did tell your friends!"

Alex rolls his and flicks some sand at Reggie. "I am in the band, too. Of course I did."

"Hey!" Reggie cries, shielding his hot dog from the flying sand. "No sand fights around food!"

"He's right," Willie nods sagely. "It is law."

Reggie hums and points at Willie. "I like this one." Willie tries to remain outwardly chill even though on the inside he's celebrating because fuck yeah, Reggie likes him. A quarter of the best friends approve of him already and it's only been a minute. Willie's got this shit in the bag.

"Well, we started elementary with three, added two in middle, now we're adding one in high school," Luke says. He glances at Willie. "Sorry, you're stuck with us."

"He's right," Julie nods.

Flynn joins and finishes, "It is law."

Willie laughs. Fuck, they're all adorable. And they're all, like, chill with him. All quarters of the best friends approve of him evidently. Which like, sweet, cool, this is great but like—what about Alex? He turns to Alex. "You cool with that?"

Alex takes a bite of his hot dog. "Who am I to argue with the law?"

"You should try it some time," Willie says, flicking his eyebrows up and down. "… but not in this case, I like this law."

"Oh, so I'm only allowed to argue with the laws you don't like?"

"No, the ones you don't like," Willie says. "So if you don't like this law…"

Alex is quiet. He takes another bite of his hot dog, chews, swallows. "So Willie brought up a really good point about season one of American Vandal," he says, turning to his friends, commenting no further on the matter. Willie grins to himself and jumps into the conversation once it gets going, pleasantly surprised that the entire group is able to have a full blown discussion about a show like American Vandal.

As their conversation goes on, they veer off topic of the show and Willie realizes they have more and more in common. More TV shows that they all watch and can discuss together, similar interests in genres of movies, their senses of humor align with Willie's so far, and they all seem to enjoy being outside or doing something rather than cooped up. They all seem like genuinely interesting people, like they exist outside of music, which… not everyone at LFHS exists outside of their performing art. Some kids in the dance program live and breathe dance. Not that Willie is, like, judging them. It's just… not for him. What these guys have though? This is for him.

Sure, a lot of their interests do vary—Willie being in dance versus them being in music. Willie being into skateboarding versus them being in a band. Willie being into art versus them being into writing. But all those things are still similar in a way. Dance and music are something they dedicate themselves to, so they understand the others' hard work. Skateboarding and the band are something they're passionate about, so they understand the others' love. Art and writing are something that gives them creative outlets, so they understand the others' delight. And besides, being exactly similar would be massively boring, wouldn't it? Even within their established group they have different interests, like Alex appears to love reading and Flynn appears to love photography, and that's a good thing. It gives them their own place to escape to, and gives them something to talk to their friends about that's new and exciting, and keeps things interesting for everyone.

Before he even realizes it, he's been sitting with them for two hours. He doesn't even think it's his ADHD that caused the time to pass him by so fast like it does when he gets into something; he just thinks these people are captivating to be around and he didn't feel like time was dragging when he was with them. But after those two hours, Taylor calls to find out where he is and he reluctantly tells her where she can meet him. He's closer to the car, anyways.

When he hangs up, the entire group is looking at him, frowns on their faces. "You were being serious earlier when you said you were gonna stick around, right?" Flynn asks, breaking the silence.

Willie laughs and his heart fucking bursts. Two fucking hours and he loves these people already. (Who the fuck is he kidding? He loved them in the first thirty minutes. Okay, fifteen. Okay, okay! Five.) "I might be around," he says with a flash of his eyebrows. "Where do you guys sit at lunch?"

"The furthest table in the cafeteria, the one by the doors out of the school," Reggie says.

Willie hums and gives them all a small smile. He restarts the conversation they were having before his sister called—the one about the music that came out this summer and how his Fall Exhibition entry was to Someone You Loved, which Julie happens to be wildly excited about. They're still talking about Lewis Capaldi's music when Taylor comes up behind him, dropping to her knees and throwing an arm around his shoulders.

"I'm confused," she says, "I don't recognize these guys, so they're not from the dance team, but they also don't have skateboards. Are you lost?"

Willie shoves her arm off of him and rolls his eyes. "I can have friends outside of dance and skating," Willie says. "There just never was reason before." Next to him, he can see Alex smile at the 'before.' "Taylor, these are Luke, Julie, Flynn, Reggie, and Alex. They're freshmen at Los Feliz. They're in the music program. Guys, this is my sister Taylor."

"Los Feliz?" Taylor asks, perking up. "What're your concentrations?"

They all answer her in turns, and she smiles at them. Willie looks at her. "They're in a band, and they're auditioning for the Exhibition."

"Yeah? We're auditioning, too. You ready to go up against us?"

"Are you ready to go up against us?" Luke throws back at her.

Taylor laughs. "I'll take that as a yes. Good. You've gotta have that attitude at Los Feliz, too many cutthroats. … I may be one of them."

"Yeah, well, Luke is, too," Alex says.

"But that's how you make it," Taylor tells Alex. She looks at Luke. "You're obviously good if you're at Los Feliz. Keep that attitude up and kick ass and you might just go places."

"That's the plan," Luke grins, clearly pleased with her approval. Willie wants to laugh at his puppy-like enthusiasm, but like, he also knows this is serious to Luke, so he bites his tongue and doesn't.

"What's your band?" Taylor asks.

"Julie and the Phantoms," Flynn answers.

"Tell your friends," Reggie grins.

Taylor laughs. "I definitely will. Are you guys on YouTube?"

"We are!" Julie says, and then Julie and Luke are pulling up videos to show to Taylor on YouTube and Taylor moves to sit beside them. He can tell by the look on his sister's face that she's surprised and thoroughly impressed. Willie doesn't know much about music—he knows what he likes listening to and he knows what sounds good to him—but Taylor knows quite a bit. If she's impressed by them… they must be good.

Willie turns to Alex and nudges him with his knee. "She likes you guys," he tells him. "Like, she's genuinely really surprised at how good you guys are right now."

Alex glances over at Taylor. "Really?"

"Yeah. And she knows good music. So I trust her. So now I know you guys are good. You've just gotta come find out if I'm any good at dance."

"Well then you better get into the Exhibition," Alex says.

Willie nods. "Yeah, there's that. Since we're auditioning for the Exhibition we also get to use one of the studios at school twice a week. You could stop by and watch if you have the time."

Alex's face does… something. Willie tries to figure it out, flitting his eyes around Alex's face to look for any clues of what it might mean, but before he can even attempt to guess, it smooths out. Alex nods. "That'd be cool. Would your sister mind?"

"No, she'd probably love an audience—someone to tell us when we fuck up."

Alex laughs. "Yeah. We can probably figure something out."

"Yeah?" Willie feels on top of the fucking world right now, honestly. He's so smart. He's a genius. Like, Taylor's probably going to tease him but she's probably going to do that anyways and she's not cruel enough to do that in front of Alex. He pauses, thinks, because—oh, god, what if she is? Well, fuck. He can't back out now. And like, he really doesn't want to? He's noticeably different between practice and performances—in practice he's still thinking creatively, still trying to be better. During a performance it's complete muscle memory, he gives up his mind entirely and just… reacts to the music. He kind of wants Alex to see him create more than react. Because yeah, he wants to get to know Alex, but he also wants Alex to get to know him. And seeing him create? That'd definitely help Alex get to know him. But, anyways. He hums. "I still have to see you perform live though. Maybe if you watch me practice I can watch you practice?"

Alex tilts his head. "That… yeah, that could work. The band would probably love it, too. Flynn is around sometimes, but not always. It's nice to be able to get feedback though."

"Exactly," Willie nods. "And, like, the band can join us in the studio for dance rehearsal if they want, too. That way it's even." That way Taylor has less ammo.

"Yeah, we can definitely figure it out."

It falls silent after that, or, silent for them. The rest of the group plus Taylor are all crowded around Julie's phone talking over a video playing on YouTube and from what Willie can hear, they are good. It sounds like the kind of music he would listen to. It's not exactly rock, but it's not exactly like every pop song on the radio, either.

Despite the silence that surrounds Willie and Alex, Willie doesn't feel the need to break it. And that's—that's not common. Willie is very much a go, go, go person; he's an active mind. He doesn't do well with pauses in every day life. And like, okay, so he's tapping his foot and drumming his hands on his thighs, but like, he still needs to move—which Alex doesn't even seem to mind. But anyways, usually he just. He just needs to be doing more than that. His mind needs to be actively engaged in something. But it's not right now. He's just sitting next to Alex, existing, and it's comfortable. He could continue to exist like this.

He does, however, have a question after he sees Luke brush his hand against Julie's for the fifth time. He leans in closer and lowers his voice. "So, Julie and Luke, are they…?"

Alex tosses his head back and laughs. "I fucking wish," he says, and then leans towards Willie and they start gossiping like two life-long best friends.

When Alex is in the middle of a story about Luke and Julie awkwardly suggesting the entire group dance to the couples dance at their eighth grade dance last year, ending in a circle of them on the dance floor, Taylor calls his name. He looks up, trance broken. "Huh?"

"Time to go," she says. "Mom and Dad are probably pissed, I promised we'd be home at four and it's…" she checks her phone. "Four."

"Oh, shit," Willie says. "Yeah, we gotta go. This one's on you. You're the one who wanted to watch their videos."

"Yeah well you're the one who made new friends," Taylor shoots back.

"Oh, yeah, that's going to upset them. 'Mom, Dad! I made new friends! What? I'm grounded?'"

"We'll just call them, let them know we got caught up," she says, shrugging. "As long as they know we're okay they won't care, right?"

"Probably. We weren't supposed to watch Jamie, right?"

"I don't think so."

"Huh. We should probably hurry just in case."

"You're right." She stands up and looks down at the group. "It was nice meeting you all! I guess I'll be seeing you around more now. Both because I know who you actually are so I'll notice you and because you're stuck with my brother now."

Willie rolls his eyes and gets up. "I'll see you guys. Back table in the cafeteria, right? Might see you there tomorrow. I'll catch you later, hot dog." 'Might.' Who the fuck was he kidding? He was going to be there every fucking day from now on.

With that, everyone says goodbye and Taylor and Willie take their leave. Willie turns and sends one last wave over his shoulder that he's glad to see Alex return. Taylor doesn't miss this. She hums. "You haven't had a crush since Tommy Rawson," she says. "And that only lasted like, a week. And you never talked to him. Congrats, you've at least talked to this one."

"Shut up," he mumbles, looking down at the ground once he's facing forward again.

Taylor laughs. She slips an arm around his shoulders and pulls him into her side as they walk. "It's about time you have a crush that you actually do something about. … you are going to do something about it, right?"

"Tay, we just talked for the first time today," he says. "I don't even know if he likes guys."

Taylor's eyebrows shoot up. "He likes you."

"Again, I repeat, we just talked—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she says, "but you don't have to know everything about a person to like them. You obviously get along. You're allowed to have a crush."

"I know I'm allowed to," he huffs. "It's not the crush thing that I have a problem with, it's the doing something about it that I have a problem with."

"You don't have to be in love to date someone," she points out.

"No, but you should know them pretty well. And know if they like guys."

Taylor sighs. "Sure, Will. Just… if you really like him, don't wait too long. Don't make yourself suffer because you're scared."

Willie frowns. "I won't."

"Of course, knowing you, you're going to lose interest in a month and this entire conversation isn't even going to matter."

Willie laughs and elbows her in the gut and she groans, retaliating by grabbing the back of his head and pushing his head down. They horse around the rest of the way back to the car, where the subject finally changes… out loud, at least. Mentally, Willie's still stuck on that conversation. Because, well, he doesn't think Alex is a passing fancy, not if he remains as interesting as he has up until this point. He wants to know more about Alex, wants to spend time with Alex, wants to make Alex laugh, wants Alex to know him. He's never felt this spark before, and it doesn't feel like something that is going to just… pass. He could be wrong, but he often isn't. Usually he knows when something is going to stick with him. He knew from the start that he loved skateboarding. He knew baseball and soccer weren't for him. He knew dancing was something he'd stick with. And it just… felt like Alex and his friends are in Willie's life now.