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Bobby and Reggie sat on the curb in front of a pizza shop near the pier, having spent the day playing for dollars to get enough money for food and decidedly neither of them wanted to go home yet afterwards. They passed back and forth a cigarette from a pack Bobby stole from his dad and watched the sun slowly set into the sea. There’s a brief silence that falls over the two, eventually Reggie who’s been fidgeting with the edge of his flannel speaks up.
“Do you think me and the others are weird?” It’s enough to catch Bobby off guard and choke on puff of smoke not having expected the load question.
Coughing Bobby asked, “Weird how? Because Alex, not so much. You and Patterson? Well, sometimes you two worry me.”
“I’m serious!” Reggie nudged their shoulders together, although there was a small smile on their face. “I know everyone sees us and thinks we’re these weird grungy looking kids with even weirder personalities. Well, maybe not Mercer, she’s pretty tame, I guess. But you know what I mean. Like, you don’t find us being so boyish as a bad thing, right?”
“Nah, it’s pretty rad. I think you three have always been the coolest people in our grade, always being yourselves. Of course, I out rank you on the coolness scale,” Bobby said, playfully a little smug and handed the cigarette back to the other teenager.
The bassist lets out a loud laugh, happily taking the cancer stick and talking through a puff of smoke. “Good to know you’re delusional ‘cause there’s no way you’re cooler. I got looks and skills!” They said proudly, smoke disappearing into the light breeze.
“And exactly what skills make you think that?” Bobby raised an eyebrow, glancing towards his friend.
“Banjo skills obviously!” Reggie pretends to strum an invisible banjo, cigarette firmly between their fingers. It’s enough to make them laugh for a few seconds longer than they should have if they’re honest, nudging each other and grinning widely, and when the laughter dies down they fall into comfortable silence.
Bobby flicks some ashes towards the sidewalk and takes a long drag, holding it in for a second longer and breathes it out in a sigh. No matter how comfortable they are with each other Reggie couldn’t handle silence for long, it was just in their nature to fill the quiet to keep from too many thoughts building up and getting too loud within their own head. So it comes as no surprise that out of the corner of his eye Bobby can see Regie tugging on their flannel sleeve, a nervous habit they’ve always had, and knows there’s something still on their mind. They take the last puff of smoke, sticking the butt end of the cigarette into the ground and tossing it across the road, a bird flying to pick at it.
There’s barely anyone around and the fall air is starting to settle in, the bassist kicks a rock a few inches away and shivers when a chilling wind blows by. Bobby puts an arm around them and avoids thinking about how his cheeks suddenly felt warm.
“Sometimes I feel like pineapple pizza,” Reggie said with so much honesty in their voice that Bobby has to stop himself from laughing.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s just,” they frown and lean into Bobby’s chest. Upset that they can’t find the right words immediately. “Hawaiian pizza- everyone hates it, but it's pizza! Pizza, Bobbers! All pizza is great! Yet people totally hate it, and okay, you don’t have to like all pizza, but they outright despise it for no real reason. Then the ones that do like it won’t even admit it because they don’t want people thinking they’re weird for liking it.”
Reggie explained this as if it made the most sense in the world and Bobby has to stop and process it, shaking his head slightly.
“I- I don’t think I follow. So you’re the pizza or the person who likes it?” Bobby asked, a little mixed up.
Frustrated, Reggie hid their face in Bobby’s chest and gripped tightly on his jean vest. The guitarist hesitantly placed a hand on their head, running his fingers through short black hair and gently scratching their scalp in an attempt to comfort them.
“I don’t know!” Reggie whimpered, feeling pathetic over how whiny they sounded. “I think the pizza? Or maybe I’m still hungry.” They take in a sharp breath and laugh to avoid the need to cry. “It’s just because sometimes I think no one likes me, like the actual me.”
“I like you.” Bobby blurts out, a little too quickly and cringes at how eager his voice seemed.
“I would hope so, we kind of helped start a band together.” The bassit huffed out a chuckle, breathy and unbelieving. “But it’s different, we’re friends and bandmates. I trust you, but I don’t know. When I’m with people it never feels like they see me how I want to be seen and somehow they still don’t like me over it and even if they did know then they would hate me anyways.” And in a near whisper they add, “and maybe you won’t like me either if you really knew.”
“Hey, hey. You don’t be so sure. How do you want to be seen?” Bobby asked, staring out at the ocean, the sun reflecting a shimmery gold over the waves. He can feel the way they tensed against him and Bobby felt like he might have hit a nerve.
Reggie shifted nervously against his chest, still gripping on his jean vest and fidgeting with a few pins. “Promise you won’t get mad?”
Bobby raised an eyebrow. “Ask me again after you tell me what it is.”
“I’m serious, Bobbers. Pinky promise you won’t get mad,” Reggie looked up and their faces were so close that Bobby had to stop himself from staring too much at the bassist’s deep, suddenly serious eyes.
“I mean it. And you can’t tell the others either. Promise me, Robert.” Reggie put their pinky out between them and Bobby stares for a moment considering if they’re being serious, searching their face and seeing a determined look in their eyes is enough to tell Bobby that this was a sincere gesture.
“Okay,” Bobby agreed, matching the instance gaze. “I promise.”
They intertwined their pinkies, giving one firm shake of compliance and shared a tight lipped smile, and Reggie let out a relieved breath.
“Okay, so remember how Jamie Evans had to change schools because she told everyone she was actually a girl?” Reggie asked, not looking towards Bobby anymore and didn't wait for a reply, voice coming out quick. “Well, I’m like that but the other way around. I want to be seen as-” They swallow thickly. “I am a guy and I want people to see that. But I feel bad because Patterson is a cool grudge queen and thinks I’m this rocking butch and I’m just not so I feel like I’m lying to her? Also Alex still goes to church and gets so wary around change and if I tell her then I just know she’ll freak over it and I’m scared of them hating me and of you hating me and I don’t want be kicked out the band and-” He has to stop themselves before his voice broke into a choked whimper.
“Hey now, look at me,” Bobby placed a hand on their shoulder and it got them to let out a shaky breath, trying to steady his nerves. “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you, ‘kay? Thank you for trusting me about this and I’ll switch pronouns, no problem.”
Reggie’s body relaxed slightly, shoulders falling slack and he can’t help but go a little wide eyed.
“S- Seriously?” He questioned, sounding so hopeful and surprised that it hurt Bobby that his best friend would ever think he’d be upset over something like this. Granted, Bobby understands where the general fear came from.
“Dude, you used to cry if we didn’t call you a cowboy as kids and got mad when your voice didn’t drop like mine when we were 11, I sort of figured something was up. I’m sure the others aren’t going to hate you either. Besides, you’re too good of a bass player for Patterson to kick you out. Plus, it’s not very punk rock to hate someone for being themselves. And, um, just so you know,” Bobby shrugged. Looking away and feeling a blush creep across his face. “I still like you either way. I’ll back you up if you ever tell the others.”
He can feel the way he’s being stared at, Reggie’s gaze suddenly burning against his skin and intensely vulnerable. Sheepishly Bobby rubbed the back of his neck, glancing towards the dimming sky. Not wanting the bassist to see his brightening cheeks or confront the seriousness of it all.
Reggie stops to observe Bobby in a way he rarely does when they’re alone, but notes all the subtleties that make something knots up tightly in his stomach. He knows Bobby. Knows him well enough to understand what every avoidance glance to anywhere that wasn’t him or bashful comment and nervous laugh meant and it lights a fire in Reggie’s gut also knowing he felt the same.
“Thanks, that means a lot coming from someone who hates feelings,” Reggie said softly, coming out more sincere than the words should allow. The small smile holding back the overflow of joy he feels in that moment.
Bobby rolled his eyes but smiled anyways. “Yeah, yeah. You’re very funny, Peters.”
“Yeah, I am but I really mean it though. I was scared to tell you and I knew you’d be cool about it, but I was still nervous so thanks for being so chill. I love hanging out with you and it’s like I get to be totally myself around my favorite person now which is so rad. I just… feel safe with you.” Reggie said, gently and voice still a little hoarse from the cigarette smoke.
I feel safe with you, Bobby repeats in his head and it feels like a weight drops in his stomach drops in the best way. He didn’t hate feelings like everyone thinks, no, he’s scared of them because they were tiring and easily too much to handle. Sometimes Luke downright made Bobby exhausted no matter how much fun they had together. But everything feels okay when he’s with Reggie. He’s passionate like Luke but it’s never overwhelming, it’s just a constant flow of emotions that Bobby can float through like a lazy river instead of feeling like he’s been thrown into the middle of the ocean. There’s so much comfort being in the bassist's presence. Bobby doesn’t have the courage to say anything back despite his chest bursting with warmth, instead nodding his head in soft acknowledgement.
“And Bobbers?” Reggie added after a few beats of silence, glancing towards his friend with an expression that held so much admiration that it was almost scary to Bobby, not used to seeing someone love him enough to be so gentle and fond. He wasn’t used to love that didn’t feel forced or out of pity.
He swallowed, palms suddenly a little sweaty. “Y- Yeah?”
“I like you too.” Reggie said a little hushed, gingerly planting a quick kiss on Bobby’s cheek and standing up before he could process what had happened. “We should- I think we should go. It’s getting dark.” Reggie’s cheeks light up as he looks out to the sea, the sun nearly done disappearing into the crashing waves and the shimmer of golds and pinks begin to fade away. “Oh, and think maybe I can crash at the studio? Dad is still mad about my haircut.”
Bobby looks up at Reggie who is shyly smiling with a faded blush, fists shoved into his leather jacket and hair slicked back give or take a few stray curls that frame his face. There’s a lot of things that click in Bobby’s brain. It did made a lot of childhood memories make sense and there’s a couple of feelings that make something twist up his stomach.
“Sure, buddy. I got some new movies on VHS we can watch.” Bobby said, a little dazed from the realization.
Reggie bit back a grin, rocking on his heels. “Ah, hell yes. Movie night! Let’s go.” He nods his head to the side, towards the general direction of Bobby’s house.
The last of the sun sinks into the ocean, waves lapping onto shore with a hum and the fading light creates a golden halo around his face that makes Reggie glow softly. He looks like he’s posed for an album cover and Bobby wished he had a camera to take the shot.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.” Bobby said, still a little stuck in thought but getting up to leave. Reggie grabs him by the arm and starts to drag them away, bouncing and laughing. Reggie’s chest feels lighter having such a smooth coming out. Bobby was always a more laxed, lowkey type of person; besides, they’ve been friends for so long Reggie felt like he knew him well enough to make a safe call. Even if he was half ready to bolt if things were to go south.
Honestly, on the way back home Bobby really thought about it. How he didn’t see his friend that differently, still loved him all the same; still thought he was a dork and killer bass player and really handsome. (And Bobby has found plenty of guys attractive before. That was no secret).
Granted it’s a big change but nothing Bobby couldn’t adapt too. Just another adjustment in his ever uncertain life.
Besides, he could never hate Reggie, not for anything and especially not for being himself. Even if he could say it out loud Reggie was one of his favorite people. Bobby loves being around him; likes leaning close together and joking around and sharing mics and the way the bassist could ramble about the most random things with so much excitement and Bobby could listen for hours despite not understanding a single thing. Enjoys all the small things that he does; how he sticks his tongue out when he’s trying to focus on a difficult string of chords or his boundless energy and weird random comments and love for animals and even the way he sneaks country songs into the sheet music every week and-
Oh.
Bobby has a crush. And fuck. On his best friend.
Make those two big changes. Maybe both should’ve been a little obvious in hindsight.