Archive of Our Own ^beta

1982.

Alex meets Bobby in kindergarten, though his name isn’t Bobby yet. Alex isn’t Alex yet either, won’t be for another nine years, so he has no idea where he fits in on the playground at recess. He has no interest in playing pretend with the girls, and whenever he tries to play kickball with the boys he gets laughed off the field. He’s taken to bringing a book to recess and hiding up on the hill where he can read and look for bugs in peace.

He’s on his way there on the last day of his second week when a leg suddenly kicks out in front of him and he trips over it, falling face first onto the ground. A chorus of laughter—all boys, he doesn’t even have to look to know— rings out above him and he gets to his feet, ignoring the sting of the wood chips pressed into his skin. He turns and glares at the boy closest to him—definitely the one who did the tripping, from the way he avoids Alex’s eyes. Alex ignores the boy’s friends; instead he marches straight up to his attacker and gives him a swift kick to the shin. The boy yelps and brings his leg up to grab the hurt area, losing his balance in the process. His friends’ laughter dies out, and they wince as he hits the ground.

“Anyone else?” Alex growls, and the rest of the boys quickly disperse. Alex steps closer to the boy he kicked, who stares up at him with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry,” the boy mutters. “They dared me to.”

“You shouldn’t play with them,” Alex says. “They’re mean. And dumb.”

“I know,” the boy says, and then he utters the words that will change Alex’s life forever. “Can I play with you instead?”

Alex considers this carefully before asking, “Do you like bugs?”

The boy nods, and Alex grins. “Then yeah. We can play together.”

The corner of the boys’ lips quirk up into a small smile as he gets to his feet. “I’m Robbie.”

Alex gives him the name he’s never really felt belonged to him, and Robbie asks, “Why’d you make a face?”

“What face?” Alex asks.

“You made a face when you said your name.”

“Oh,” Alex shrugs. “I guess I don’t really like it.”

Robbie thinks for a minute, his face scrunching up in concentration. “Then I won’t call you it. What’s your last name?”

Alex blinks. He didn’t think you could just get rid of your name that easily. “Mercer.”

“You’re cool, Mercer,” Robbie nods, like Alex has seen his dad do sometimes when he makes an important decision. “I like you.”

And from that moment on, the two are inseparable.

They’re not in the same class, but they meet up at recess every day, and looking for bugs eventually evolves into inventing all kinds of games unique to the two of them, because no one else wants to play with them. Alex’s favorite is one Robbie came up with. It’s sort of a mix of soccer and hide and seek, and neither of them really understand the rules but it’s so much fun that Alex would play it every day.

Eventually, Robbie invites Alex over for a playdate, and his mom says no.

His parents don’t really like that his only friend is a boy. He doesn’t know why, but every time he mentions Robbie, Alex’s mom suggests that he try playing with the girls at recess instead. Alex hates it, so he begs and begs and begs until his mom relents, but she says it has to be at the Mercers’ house instead. Robbie and Alex are fine with that arrangement, and soon enough playdates become a weekly occurrence.

1983-1984.

They get placed in the same class for first and second grade, meaning they basically never have to spend a moment apart. Their teachers always seat them together because they’re “good for each other,” whatever that means. They never really make any other friends; no one wants to talk to Alex because he’s too quiet and shy, and no one wants to talk to Robbie because he’s too quiet and mean. They don’t mind, though. They have each other, and that’s enough.

The summer after second grade, they go to music camp together. Robbie got a guitar for Christmas, and Alex got a keyboard, even though he begged for a drum set.

Despite that, it’s still the most fun they’ve ever had. They spend the entire summer trying to learn to play “Piano Man” together, and they kind of suck, but by the end of August they can sort of manage it.

“Someday you’ll get drums,” Robbie says, “and then we can be rockstars.”

That sounds like a good deal to Alex.

When they return home at the end of camp, it’s to the devastating news that they won’t be in the same third grade class. Alex cries for two hours when he finds out, and Robbie sits next to him and quietly reassures him that they’ll always be best friends.

“Always?” Alex sniffles once he feels like he can breathe again.

“Yeah, Buggy,” Robbie says, pulling out the nickname he only uses when the two of them are alone. “Forever.” He holds out his pinkie finger towards Alex. “Promise.”

Alex links their pinkies and gives Robbie a weak smile. He can make it a year without being in the same class. They’ve done it before. It’ll be fine.

1985.

Alex hates this. He hates not being in the same class as Robbie, he hates only seeing his friend at recess, and most of all, he hates that Robbie is obsessed with this other kid in his class. It’s all he ever talks about now, and it’s driving Alex crazy.

“I don’t want to hear about your stupid crush,” Alex snaps one day at recess, after hearing about a joke the new kid told for the third time that day.

“It’s not a crush,” Robbie protests. “She’s just cool and funny. And she plays guitar.”

That catches Alex’s attention, as much as he hates to admit it. “She does?”

“Yeah,” Robbie nods. “We could actually start a band! Can I invite her to play with us this week?”

Alex mulls it over. He kind of hates the idea of having to share his only friend with someone, but he does really want to start a band.

“Okay,” Alex finally sighs. “But I’m still your best friend, right?”

Robbie rolls his eyes. “Duh.”

The next day at recess, Robbie drags his new friend up to the hill to meet Alex, and Alex immediately decides that he hates the kid.

“This is Patterson,” Robbie says proudly, and Patterson gives Alex a winning smile.

“What kind of a name is Patterson?” Alex spits. The kid’s smile falters a bit.

“Well, I don’t really like my name,” Patterson says, shifting and fidgeting in a way Alex can tell is going to drive him crazy, “and Robbie said you didn’t either so you use your last name and I think that’s really cool so I asked if I could too.”

Alex crosses his arms and scowls. “You talk a lot.”

Patterson’s face falls into a hurt pout, and Robbie thumps Alex upside the head.

“Take a chill pill.”

Alex glances between Robbie and the pouting Patterson and sighs. He’ll play nice. For Robbie.

“So,” he says. “You play guitar?”

Patterson perks back up like nothing ever happened. Kind of like a puppy, Alex thinks.

He’s always been more of a cat person.

“Yeah!” Patterson says. “I only just started but it’s so fun! I practice every day and someday I’m gonna be a rockstar!”

Robbie grins at Alex, and Alex has to admit it’s kind of cool to meet someone else who has the same dreams as them, but he’s still not sold.

When he looks away from Robbie, he realizes with a start that Patterson hasn’t stopped rambling.

“Robbie said you play the piano? That’s so cool!”

“I guess,” Alex shrugs. “I really want to play the drums.”

“No way!” Patterson grins. “I have a drum set you can use! My parents bought it for me last year but they said it was too loud so they got me the guitar instead. You should totally take it!”

“Really?” Alex asks, and Patterson nods enthusiastically.

“Yeah! If you don’t take it my parents are gonna make me give it to my neighbor Lenny and I hate Lenny.”

“Okay,” Alex says, a smile finally starting to slip onto his face. “Cool. Thanks.”

“You guys should come over to my place and we can jam!”

It’s too easy to convince Alex’s mom to let him go to the Pattersons’. When he asks, she talks for hours about how excited she is that he’s finally made friends with another girl. Alex bites back his bitter comment about how it’s not really fair that she’s letting him go to Patterson’s after one day when he’s known Robbie for years and she still doesn’t trust him.

Patterson’s mom is nice, even though she tells them they have to be super quiet when they play their instruments. Still, she brings them cookies and tells them to call her Emily and she doesn’t have a problem with Alex going by Mercer like his parents do, so Emily is alright by him.

Patterson takes Alex and Robbie down into the tiny basement, where a starter drum kit is set up in the corner.

“Tada!” Patterson says, making jazz hands towards the drums. “It’s all yours.”

Alex darts towards it and runs a hand over one of the cymbals, his eyes widening in awe. “Wow,” he breathes.

Bobby takes out his guitar to start tuning it. “Let’s hear it, Mercer.”

Alex freezes. “I, um, I don’t actually know how to play.” He glances back and forth between Robbie and Peterson nervously. He knows Robbie won’t make fun of him, but Patterson is an unknown. He feels Robbie tense next to him, seemingly thinking the same.

To their relief, the dopey smile doesn’t leave Patterson’s face. “I can show you how!”

Robbie and Alex slump in relief as Patterson grabs a pair of sticks and bounds over behind the set. “I only know how to do one beat, but it’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it.”

Patterson starts playing, and the kid does not make it sound easy. Alex suddenly understands why Emily wants to get rid of the drums. Still, he watches Patterson’s movements carefully and finds himself tapping along to the unsteady beat. Patterson plays for a few measures then offers up the sticks to Alex, who takes them and sinks onto the stool.

He takes a deep breath, then starts trying to copy Patterson, at a much slower tempo. His movements are stiff and uneven, but something about the sticks in his hands just feels right. He sounds better than Patterson, anyway.

“You’re a natural,” Robbie grins, and Alex picks up the pace a bit.

Patterson scrambles to grab an acoustic guitar. “I started writing a song last night. Mercer, keep doing that. Robbie, try and follow me.”

They end up playing the same chunk of Patterson’s song for hours, with Patterson shouting out chords and rhythms to Robbie. As much as Alex doesn’t like Patterson, he has to admit that the three of them work well together. They don’t sound great—they are only eight, after all—but something about playing music together makes Alex feel like they were meant to do this.

By the time Alex’s mom comes to pick him up, all three of them are sweaty and exhausted, but grinning ear to ear. Patterson wraps them both up in a tight hug before they go, exclaiming, “This is gonna be the best band ever!”

Alex wriggles free from the hug, wondering if this kid has ever heard of personal space. He says his goodbyes to Patterson and Emily, and Robbie follows him out to the driveway, where his mom is waiting for him as well. He stops Alex before they reach their cars.

“What do you think?” Robbie asks, poorly hiding the hope in his eyes.

Alex considers it for a moment. “Patterson’s annoying. But I think we’d make an awesome band.”

“So we can keep her?”

“I guess,” Alex huffs.

Robbie lets out a victory yell and grabs Alex in a quick hug before running to his mom’s car. Alex rolls his eyes and gets into his mom’s car, hoping against hope that Patterson will only stick around for band practices.

1985-1986.

Alex quickly learns that to do anything with Patterson is to become the kid’s best friend for life. Wherever Alex and Robbie go, Patterson follows. Recess, band practice, even play dates, because Alex is too awkward to tell Robbie he doesn’t want Patterson at his house. If Patterson picks up on that, though, it doesn’t show. No matter how mean Alex is, Patterson just bounces right back with a smile and a new song. It ticks Alex off, to be honest, but whenever he says anything about it Robbie just smacks him upside the head and tells him to play nice.

Patterson comes with them to music camp that summer, and for their final performance the counselors let the three of them perform as a band, even though Robbie’s in a different cabin. They play a song Patterson wrote during the songwriting classes, and the applause from the audience when they’re done is like nothing Alex has ever felt before.

As soon as they get off the little makeshift stage, Patterson pulls Alex and Robbie into a tight, sweaty hug, declaring, “We totally killed that!”

“Yeah, we did,” Robbie grins, not fighting against the hug for once.

Even Alex is content to stay put this time. “They loved us.”

“Dudes,” Patterson says, eyes going all bright and glassy like they do whenever the band’s future comes up, “just think about when we make it big. We’ll get applause like that every night!”

Patterson ruffles their hair before releasing them from the hug and bouncing off to soak in the praise from the other campers. Alex watches Patterson go with a grin on his face, and with a horrible, startling jolt, he realizes that he actually sort of kind of likes the kid.

He’s never been so disappointed in himself.

It gets easier after that though, hanging out with Patterson. It stops being Mercer-and-Robbie and Patterson and becomes Mercer-and-Robbie-and-Patterson, and their music gets all the better for it.

There’s still some of that lingering jealousy, that fear that one day Robbie will decide that he likes Patterson better and doesn’t need Alex anymore, but it gets a little quieter every day as the three of them grow into their little Mercer-Robbie-Patterson system. Soon enough, Alex is eagerly inviting Patterson to hang out with them, even begging his mom to let them have a sleepover even though Robbie won’t be allowed to come. Robbie’s mad about that one for days, but he cheers up once Patterson promises they can sneak him into any sleepovers at her house.

Those sleepovers quickly become Alex’s favorite kind of night. They’re spent laughing and playing and sharing secrets they’ve never told anyone else, and the fact that they don’t really have anyone else to share those secrets with doesn’t make the trust it takes to tell them any less meaningful. Years down the line, they’ll all get a little more cagey about their secrets, and God knows Alex and Patterson have big secrets to keep, but for now, everything is shared, and they’re happy.

1987.

In fifth grade, Robbie gets mean. Well, meaner. He’s always been mean to their classmates, especially the ones who pick on his friends, but lately he’s been mean to Alex and Patterson too, and that’s not going to fly.

“What’s your problem?” Alex demands after an insult from Robbie made Patterson slip out to take a water break, though they all know Patteron just doesn’t want to cry in front of them. They’re in Robbie’s garage, because as soon as they became old enough to ride their bikes places without supervision, Alex figured out he could just tell his mom he was going to Patterson’s. Emily promised not to rat him out as long as he took the drum set out of her house, so now it stays at Robbie’s all the time.

“I don’t have a problem,” Robbie grunts, not looking up from his tuning pegs.

Alex scoffs. “Then why are you being such a jerk to Patterson?”

“Maybe Patterson’s just being annoying.”

“I tried to tell you that last year, and it didn’t scare you off then.”

Robbie rolls his eyes and gets up from his stool, turning his back to Alex. “It’s nothing.”

“Robbie,” Alex insists.

“I’m fine.”

“No you’re not,” Alex says, “because if you were fine you wouldn’t be acting like such a bad friend.”

Robbie’s grip tightens on the neck of his guitar, and for a moment Alex worries he might snap it, but then he takes a deep breath and lets his hand drop. “My parents aren’t coming home for my birthday.”

“Oh,” Alex whispers, all the fight suddenly gone out of him.

“I don’t—I don’t know when they’re coming back,” Robbie continues, shoulders hunching further in on himself with every word. “They wouldn’t tell me. They just said Nana’s gonna live with me for a while.”

His voice shakes like he’s about to cry, and a spike of panic shoots through Alex because he’s never seen Robbie cry, ever. He’s seen him scream and hit and throw things, but never cry.

He stands up from his stool and inches closer to Robbie, not quite sure what to do.

“I’m just confused,” Robbie says, taking his guitar off and setting it on its stand. “Why don’t they love me?”

Alex and Robbie don’t hug. Before Patterson came into the picture, they never even touched each other. But as Alex sees the first tear slip from Robbie’s eye, he decides that rule is dumb. He throws himself forward and hugs Robbie from behind, taking him off guard and almost sending the both of them crashing into the guitar stand.

“They do love you,” Alex insists, “and if they don’t, then they’re stupid, ‘cause you’re my favorite person in the world.”

Robbie hesitates before turning in Alex’s arms so he can properly return the hug. “Thanks, Buggy.”

They hear the door to the garage swing open, and a little squeaked, “Oh.”

Alex pulls away just a little bit to see Patterson hovering by the door, eyes puffy but otherwise looking okay.

“Sorry,” Patterson says. “I’ll just—“

Robbie rolls his eyes and holds out an arm. “C’mere, Patty.”

Patterson bounds over, joining the hug with no hesitation.

“I’m sorry,” Robbie says. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I was being a jerk.”

“S’okay,” Patterson shrugs. “I’m over it. I came up with this sick riff while I was out there, wanna hear it?”

Robbie laughs and ruffles Patterson’s hair. “Hit me with it.”

Patterson grins and bounces over to Angie (Alex still thinks that’s a lame name for a guitar, but at least it’s a Rolling Stones reference), and Alex wonders if Robbie is ever going to tell Patterson about why he was acting so mean. For now though, he takes just the tiniest bit of comfort in knowing he was the one Robbie trusted with this. It’s just nice to know he’s still Robbie’s favorite too.

1988.

Sixth grade brings a lot of changes. It brings a new school, new classmates, and new freedoms, but most importantly it brings a new kid from Montana with crooked teeth and an oversized flannel.

Alex and Robbie are sitting at their usual lunch table when Patterson bounces over to them with the new kid in tow.

“So I was thinking about the bridge of ‘Get Lost’,” Patterson says, seemingly oblivious to the kid hovering nervously. “I liked the lyrics Robbie came up with last night, but I think we should actually save those for ‘Danger for Two,’ and come up with something new.”

“Uh, Patterson?” Alex asks. “You gonna introduce your new friend?”

Patterson blinks, confused, before lighting up and tugging the new kid down into a seat. “Oh yeah! This is our new bassist!”

“Hi,” the kid says, giving a little wave and a crooked smile.

“She helped me in math class, and it turns out she plays bass, so I decided she’s ours now.” Patterson grins proudly at Alex and Robbie. “Now we have a full band!”

Alex glances at Robbie, who’s watching Patterson with the corner of his lips quirked up, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

“Okay,” Robbie says. “Does our new bassist have a name?”

“I’m Aubrey,” the kid says, though it won’t be long before Alex is scrubbing that name from his memory.

“That’s Robbie and Mercer,” Patterson says, waving at the two of them with a half-eaten slice of pizza.

The new kid turns and frowns at Alex. “You don’t have a first name?”

Robbie shakes his head and gestures at Alex and Patterson. “These two don’t like their names, so we don’t use ‘em.”

“Oh, okay. Cool. Call me Peters, then.” Peters turns to Robbie. “So you like your name?”

Robbie just shrugs.

“You don’t really look like a Robbie,” Peters says with a tilt of the head.

“And what do I look like?” Robbie sounds amused, but Alex can see the way he tenses. There aren’t a lot of Filipino kids at their school, and Robbie’s already had some issues with racist bullies even though the year’s barely started. Alex holds his breath, hoping this kid won’t say anything ignorant. He really doesn’t want to get in a fight today, but he would for Robbie.

After a moment of consideration, Peters says, “You look like a Bobby.”

All the apprehension in Robbie is quickly replaced by bewilderment. “That’s only one letter off.”

“Yeah, but you just have Bobby energy,” Peters shrugs. “Plus, Robbie sounds way too close to Aubrey, and there’s no good nicknames for Aubrey, so it’ll just be confusing.”

“But if you’re going by Peters, why does it matter?” Robbie asks.

“‘Cause I still respond to my first name,” Peters says, like this bizarre train of thought is obvious. “And I’ll hear ‘Robbie’ and be like, ‘Oh crap, are they talking to me?’ And they won’t be and it’ll be awkward.”

Robbie turns to Alex, incredulous and clearly asking for help, but Alex just shrugs and smirks. “Sorry, Bobby. You heard Peters. You have that energy.”

Patterson snorts, and Robbie gapes at Alex before snapping his jaw shut and leaning back in his seat.

“You know what? Fine. Whatever. Welcome aboard, Peters.”

And thanks to Peters, Bobby becomes the first of them to get his new name.

1989.

Alex has to hand it to Patterson’s unconventional friend-making tactics; Peters is like the missing piece they never knew they needed. Sometimes it’s even easy to forget it hasn’t always been the four of them. Peters is able to keep up with Patterson’s endless energy, and has this cheerful, optimistic demeanor that keeps Alex from getting too into his own head, and Bobby softens around Peters in a way Alex and Patterson have never been able to draw out of him.

Their music becomes a whole new beast with the addition of the bass. Peters fits into the music seamlessly, and is super good with improvising new riffs on the fly. They start busking at skateparks and the pier, and they draw real crowds. They even get asked to play the middle school dance, and they celebrate the news of their first real gig with a pizza party at Bobby’s, with all the junk food they can eat provided by his Nana.

“We need a name,” Patterson says, once their sugar highs have crashed, leaving the four of them piled on top of each other on the floor of Bobby’s garage. “We can’t play the dance without a killer band name.”

Bobby groans from where he’s squished beneath Peters. “We’ve been having this discussion for ages. Why don’t we just use one we already came up with?”

“I liked Whisper Cats,” Peters offers.

“No,” the other three say simultaneously, causing Peters to pout.

Alex brushes Patterson’s hair out of his face and glances around at their surroundings. His eyes catch on the way the sun comes through the windows as it sinks lower in the sky.

“What about Sunset something?” Alex proposes.

Patterson’s nose wrinkles up. “Sunset Something?”

“Curve,” Bobby says. Alex glances over to see him looking at the same ray of sunlight Alex was, his eyes following the beam as it bends from the wall to the floor. “Sunset Curve.”

“Awesome,” Peters breathes.

“You guys are geniuses!” Patterson leaps up to pace, sugar crash completely forgotten. “Peters, you gotta design us a logo, like, asap. And we gotta get the name on Mercer’s bass drum.” Patterson turns back to them and tackles all three of them in a hug. “Dudes! Sunset Curve forever!”

Alex catches Bobby’s eye as they both grin at their friend’s antics.

“Sunset Curve forever,” Alex echoes.

1989-1991.

Sunset Curve takes off after that, and it’s not long before they’re playing every school dance. They build up a solid following of their classmates—mostly girls who want to swoon over Bobby, much to Peters’ jealousy—and by the time they start high school they’ve already started playing clubs. They lose a lot of that following once Luke comes out and Alex and Reggie follow, but thankfully they start passing relatively quickly and promoters don’t take too much stock in high school rumors about the boy band that used to be mostly girls. If any of them ask, which is rare, the boys just tell them that they replaced their sisters or cousins, and they buy it easily enough.

Life is good for them, except when it isn’t; and when it isn’t, it’s really bad. While the band starts to grow, their relationships with their parents start to deteriorate. Bobby’s parents weren’t even there to begin with, but they start coming home less and less, to the point where he only sees them once throughout all of freshman year. Emily’s dislike for Luke’s music morphs into outright hatred, and Luke starts coming to almost every rehearsal with a new angry song about parents just not getting it. Reggie never says anything about his parents, but they all know he has it the worst. They see the way he flinches at loud noises and desperately tries to keep the peace among the band, completely shutting down whenever their arguments get heated.

Alex’s parents are a ticking time bomb, but they haven’t exploded yet. He hasn’t told them he’s trans, or that Luke and Reggie are either, for that matter. He knows once he does, they’ll either cut themselves out of his life completely, or try to take over every part of it until they can mold him back into the perfect little girl they always wanted.

He doesn’t plan on letting the latter happen, so he spends as much time away from them as possible. He spends it with his boys instead, and thankfully they’re all in need of as much quality time as he is. At one point, Reggie calls them the only family he needs, and Alex can’t help but agree.

1992.

In tenth grade, Alex detonates the bomb. He shows up to dinner after band practice with the brand new haircut Bobby did for him in the studio bathroom, and he takes advantage of his parents’ silent shock when they see him to tell them that he’s a man, his name is Alex, and he’s not ashamed of who he is, so if they are, he’s gone.

He’s out the door less than three minutes later. Thankfully, he had the sense to pack a bag that morning, and it’s already waiting for him in the back of the van. There’s not much he wanted to take anyway; his entire life is already in Bobby’s garage.

He doesn’t cry on the drive to Bobby’s. He doesn’t cry when Nana greets him at the door with a hug and sends him out to the studio. He doesn’t cry when he finds Bobby waiting for him with a fresh set of bedsheets on the pullout and a pile of old romcoms Bobby normally refuses to watch.

“It didn’t go well?” Bobby asks, eyeing Alex’s duffel bag.

Alex shakes his head. Within a second, Bobby is on his feet and throwing his arms around Alex.

“Fuck them,” Bobby growls. “You’re perfect, Alex, and if they can’t see that then they can go fuck themselves.”

Alex bursts into tears.

“It’s okay,” Bobby says. He tugs Alex over to the pullout, pulling the two of them down so Alex is curled into his chest. “It’s gonna be okay, Buggy. I love you, and the boys love you, and we’ll figure everything else out from there.”

He lets Alex cry himself out and soak his shirt through, whispering soft reassurances the whole time. Once his breathing has evened out, Bobby sends him into the bathroom to take his binder off and change into his pajamas, and when he comes back out Bobby has just pressed play on Dirty Dancing, Alex’s favorite. They cuddle back up on the couch, and while they keep their gaze on the TV, Alex knows neither of them are really watching.

He never really talked about it with Bobby, after he came out to him. Since it was more of a group thing, Bobby’s “I love you and this doesn’t change anything” speech was delivered to all three of them, and while he doesn’t know if Bobby had one-on-one conversations with Luke and Reggie, he knows he didn’t have one with Alex. He just woke Alex up the next day by shoving him off the pullout, same as always, and from that point on they continued on as normal, except with a new name and pronouns. Alex is grateful for that, he really is, because it could have been awkward and uncomfortable, but he’d still like to know what was going on in Bobby’s head.

“Bobby?” he asks right after Baby finds out Penny is pregnant. “What did you…What did you think when I came out to you?”

“What do you mean?” Bobby asks.

“Like,” Alex huffs, twisting the hem of his sweatshirt as he tries to find the words. “Were you, like, surprised, or— or I mean, were you really as cool with it as you seemed?”

Bobby hums as he thinks, and Alex feels a little guilty for having asked. There’s nothing Bobby hates more than talking about feelings, especially his own.

“Sorry,” Alex backtracks. “You don’t have to answer that, I know you—“

“It’s fine, Al,” Bobby cuts him off, his voice much softer and more open than it usually is when asked to talk about deep stuff like this. “I guess I was a tiny bit surprised. Definitely more surprised about you than Luke and Reggie, ‘cause you always kind of refused anything guy-ish? But now I know that was, like, a defensive thing.”

He pauses for a moment, then seems to remember the second part of Alex’s question. “I was always cool with it, though. You guys are my brothers, I just want you to be happy. Especially you, ‘cause I saw you get all quiet and scared, and I never want to see you like that. You deserve to be happy, like you were when we were little.”

That was a lot more than Alex had ever expected to hear out of Bobby. He doesn’t really know how to respond to all that, so he just snuggles in closer to Bobby’s chest and says, “Thanks, Bobbers,” with all the earnestness he can muster.

Bobby squeezes him tighter in response. A few minutes pass before Bobby speaks up again.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Alex nods and Bobby hesitates before continuing, “Why did you come to me instead of Luke tonight?”

It’s a fair question. Luke is his boyfriend, after all, and even if that weren’t the case, Luke knows exactly what it’s like to come out to parents as trans. Bobby barely knows what it’s like to have parents.

Alex could take the easy answer, and say that Luke sucks at comforting people (true) or that he doesn’t want to escalate whatever argument he and Emily are inevitably having tonight (also true), but he knows Bobby is making himself vulnerable just by asking, so he decides to answer honestly.

“You’re, like, my favorite person, dude,” he says. “You’ve always been there for me, since the beginning, and I guess I just needed you tonight.”

“Oh,” Bobby whispers, eyes widening like Alex has just revealed a secret of the universe to him. “Wow, I— I’m just really honored you trusted me with this, is all.”

Alex sits up a bit so he can properly look at Bobby. “I love you, Bobbers, you know that right?”

“Yeah,” Bobby nods, still looking completely in awe. “I love you too, Buggy.”

“Good,” Alex sighs. He lays back down and squirms around to get comfortable. “Don’t tell Luke and Reggie I said you’re my favorite.”

Bobby barks out a laugh. “Oh, I’m gonna tell them. I’ll never let those little shits forget it.”

1995.

Alex and Bobby don’t get a lot of alone time before the Orpheum.

Luke moved into the garage with Alex in December (thankfully long enough after their breakup that they could live together without it being awkward), and Reggie’s there so often he may as well live there too. It’s nice, having all his boys around him, but there’s a little part of Alex that wants a moment for himself and Bobby, just a private moment to celebrate that dream that started back in second grade finally coming true.

Bobby must feel the same, because the night before the Orpheum, after they’ve all gorged themselves on celebratory pizza and ice cream, he asks Alex to help take all the dishes back up to the kitchen. Alex agrees, leaving Luke and Reggie to choose their movies for the night—a regrettable consequence, but a sacrifice he’s willing to make for a minute alone with Bobby.

The house is way too empty these days, ever since Nana passed last month, but this time Bobby doesn’t hesitate at the door like he usually does. He marches straight through into the kitchen and throws his dishes into the sink.

“Just leave ‘em here for now,” he tells Alex. “I wanna show you something.”

Alex carefully stacks his plates on top of Bobby’s, then follows his friend up the stairs and into his bedroom. Bobby doesn’t stop at the bed, or the desk, like Alex is expecting. Instead, he crosses to his window and slides it open.

“Where are we going?” Alex asks.

“Just trust me,” Bobby says, and he ducks out onto the roof.

Alex follows, having a little more difficulty getting his long limbs through, but when he finally stumbles onto the other side, he gasps. Bobby’s set up two lawn chairs with a perfect view of the sunset, with a little cooler and a boombox softly playing their demo.

Bobby opens the cooler and tosses Alex a root beer—the band’s choice of celebratory drink ever since they gave up alcohol to help Reggie kick his addiction—and pops one open for himself.

“This is amazing,” Alex says, sinking into one of the lawn chairs.

“I wanted to celebrate,” Bobby shrugs. “Who knew little Robbie and Mercer would go from playing shitty Billy Joel covers to being actual rock stars?”

Alex waits until Bobby is settled and looking at him to answer, “You did.”

Bobby grins and holds out his root beer. “Cheers,” he says, “to Sunset Curve.”

“To little Robbie and Mercer,” Alex adds, tapping their bottles together.

Bobby nods in agreement. “Let’s make ‘em proud.”

They know they can’t stay out there long without an impatient Luke and/or Reggie coming out there to find them, but luckily their demo only lasts around fifteen minutes, so they manage to listen to the whole thing and finish their drinks before going back out to finish their celebration with the rest of their boys.

Alex drifts off that night with his head on Bobby’s chest, Reggie’s arms around his waist, and Luke’s legs tangled in his, dreaming of all the ways their lives will change after tomorrow.

2020.

Alex hovers outside Julie’s door, wondering if it’s really worth it to knock. It’s still strange to him, that not two months ago this bedroom had belonged to Bobby, a safe space for Alex and the boys that they never needed permission to enter, and now he’s afraid to even knock on the door.
He can hear Julie’s music coming through the door. His heart sings a little at the familiar opening riff of “Get Lost,” but when it’s not Luke’s voice that comes in with the first verse, it’s almost enough to make him want to poof away and forget this whole conversation.

He knows he can’t, though, because he won’t be able to live with himself—metaphorically speaking—if he doesn’t get answers. If he backs out now, he knows he won’t be able to work up the courage again. So he takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and knocks.

The music shuts off immediately, and Julie calls, “Come in.”

Alex opens the door instead of phasing through, because if he thinks too hard about how dead he is right now he’ll break down before he even has the conversation that’s worth breaking down over.

“Hey, Alex,” Julie chirps, closing her laptop and setting it aside. “What’s up?”

Alex closes the door behind him, but he doesn’t move any closer to the bed. “I, um, I was wondering if I could ask you something?”

“Of course,” Julie says. She pats the bed next to her, and Alex hesitates before sitting down on the edge of the mattress and shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Okay,” Alex breathes. “So. Um, you—you said you’re close with Trevor, right? Or—or you were?”

Julie nods, her face becoming guarded. “Yeah, we used to call him Uncle Trev. Is this about getting revenge on him or—“

“No!” Alex interrupts, panic spiking in his chest. “We told you we’d move on from that, and we meant it. I promise, Jules, it’s not about that.”

Julie relaxes and nods. “Okay. So what is it about?”

Alex chews on his lip, all the possible ways he wants to ask this question ricocheting through his head before he finally blurts, “What’s he like?”

“What’s he like?” Julie repeats.

“Yeah.” Alex takes his hands out of his pockets in favor of twisting them in the hem of his shirt. “I just… he was my first friend, you know? I don’t love any of my boys more or less than the others but Bobby was…special. He was… he was like my Flynn.”

Julie nods, her eyes widening in understanding.

“And now he’s lived this whole life without us, but sometimes—sometimes it feels like he’s the one who died.” Alex continues, starting to choke up a bit. “He’s still there, but he’s this whole new person and I guess I just want to know if there’s any of my Bobby still left in him.”

“Come here,” Julie says. She shifts so she’s sitting up against her pillows and holds her arms out to Alex. It’s a little awkward, folding his long body to fit into her hold, but her touch is as comforting as always.

“He’s a really good dad,” she says, and yeah, Alex had always predicted that. The way he doted over and took care of his boys was evidence enough that his parents didn’t pass their apathy on to him.

“He’s kind of quiet,” Julie continues. “He doesn’t talk a lot, but he can be goofy too. He was always willing to go along with whatever silly games Carrie and Flynn and I came up with. He’s really spiritual, too, like he’s constantly meditating. And he talks about music like it’s the most sacred thing in the world.”

The scoff escapes Alex before he can stop himself. “Then why wouldn’t he credit us?” He hates how ragged his voice sounds, how painful the words are as they scrape past his throat, but it’s always been true that music is sacred to Bobby, and that fact right there is the only thing stopping him from truly believing that Bobby and Trevor are the same person.

Julie rubs Alex’s arm in an attempt to calm him. “You know,” she says, “I’m not entirely sure he didn’t.” Alex sits up to look at her, and she shrugs uncertainly before continuing, “I was thinking about it, and I don’t think I would tell my twelve-year-old daughter and her friends about my best friends’ tragic deaths.”

“I guess I wouldn’t either,” Alex mutters.

“There’s one more thing,” Julie says. She lets go of Alex to reach for her laptop. “After I found out you guys wrote his songs, I went back and watched some videos from his old performances, especially the tours for the albums you guys wrote. And I found this.”

She turns her laptop to face him with a video open. She presses play, and suddenly Bobby’s face appears on screen. Not Trevor, but Bobby, with his stupid red suspenders and the haircut he did himself and the tired lines beneath his eyes. He looks only a few years older, a few years more worn out, but other than that he’s exactly as Alex remembers his best friend. He has to choke back a sob at the sight.

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” Bobby says, and the audio is fuzzy due to its age but it feels just like his best friend is speaking to him again. “Before I start I want to dedicate this set to my brothers. My manager told me I’m not allowed to do this, but, uh, fuck my manager—“ The crowd roars, and Bobby waits for them to calm down before continuing, “My brothers wrote these songs with me, and just because they’re not here to play them with me doesn’t mean their music is dead too. Al, Lu, Reg, I love you guys. This is for you.”

He launches into “Crooked Teeth,” and Alex can’t stop the tears that start flowing freely down his cheeks.

“Turn it off,” he chokes. “Please. I can’t—“

Julie shuts her laptop and wraps her arms back around Alex. “I think he got in trouble with his manager or label or something because he stopped doing it when he got big, but every show before that starts like that. He really loved you guys.”

Alex buries his face in her shoulder and sobs. Bobby hadn’t forgotten them. He’s still their brother.

Once Alex has cried himself out, Julie cautiously asks, “Have you considered talking to him? He was at the Orpheum, he knows you guys are back.”

Alex has been thinking about talking to him constantly. After the whole mess with Caleb was over and Willie was free, almost all of Alex’s brainpower has been dedicated to thinking about Bobby, and how badly he misses him, and how he would give anything to talk to him again. But he’s terrified.

“I don’t know,” Alex shrugs. “What if—what if he’s totally different? Or he doesn’t want anything to do with me? And—“ he swallows, pushing past the lump in his throat. “The last night we had together was kind of, like, the perfect goodbye, even if we didn’t know it was goodbye. I don’t want to ruin that for him.”

Julie turns her body so she can face him. “Alex, I would do literally anything to talk to my mom again. No perfect goodbye could ever replace having her in front of me. You and Trevor have that opportunity. You’re probably the only people in the world who do. I’ll bet you anything Trevor wants to see you just as badly as you do.”

Alex knows she’s right, but if there’s one thing Alex is good at, it’s not admitting when other people are right. “Luke and Reggie will be mad at me. They’re still pissed at him.”

“I’ll show them what I showed you,” Julie says, “but they’re allowed to take more time to come to terms with everything, just like you’re allowed to move quicker. You all have to go at your own pace.”

“When did you get so wise?” Alex asks. He means it as a joke, but Julie gives him a soft smile.

“Trevor taught me that about grief.”

“Oh,” Alex whispers.

Julie puts a hand on his arm and looks at him with her large, sincere eyes. “Do you want me to ask him to come over this weekend?”

Alex takes a deep breath, then nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I want to see him.”

Alex paces the floor of the studio, giving his best model strut a run for its money. The guys have gone to the skatepark with Willie for the day, waiting for Alex to join them if this goes poorly and he needs support. He understands why they’re not ready to face Trevor yet, but part of him wishes he had his boys by his side for this.

“Alex?” Julie pokes her head into the garage, giving him a small smile. “He’s here. Should I send him in?”

Alex takes a shaky breath and nods. Julie disappears from the door, and a minute later, Trevor Wilson is standing in front of him.
They both just stare at each other for a moment, Trevor’s eyes wide with a million different emotions. He looks old, is all Alex can think. Old and tired and not at all like the grumpy but lively boy Alex loves. He searches Trevor’s face, desperately searching for any trace of his Bobby, and all he can come up with is the lion necklace still around his neck, all these decades later.

Then the corner of Trevor’s lips quirk up into a small smile, and a thousand different memories flood over Alex all at once. All the times he’s seen that smile— whenever any of the boys did anything stupid; their unorthodox introduction to Reggie; that very first day on the playground as Alex helped the kid who tripped him to his feet, not knowing it would change his life. Alex knows that smile better than he knows his own face.

“Hey, Buggy.”

“Bobby,” Alex gasps, and the rest of the world crumbles away as he launches himself into his best friend’s arms. “It’s really you.”

“It’s me,” Bobby whispers, his voice thick with tears, and Alex feels his own dam burst. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” he sobs. He grabs at the back of Bobby’s shirt, trying to pull him as close as he can get. “God, I missed you.”

“I never—“ Bobby chokes. “I thought I’d never get to see you again. I can’t believe you’re really here.”

“I’m here,” Alex promises. Somehow, despite everything, despite twenty-five years of death and life, they’re both here, together again.

When their tears finally start to subside, Bobby pulls back to look at him, though he keeps his hands on Alex’s arms. “You look exactly the same.”

“You look old,” Alex retorts.

Bobby scoffs, and the sound is so familiar Alex almost starts crying again. “Yeah, asshole, that’s what twenty-five years do to a person.”

Alex chuckles, and Bobby finally releases him to look around the studio. “Luke and Reg?”

Alex’s face falls. “They, um, they weren’t ready to see you again yet. They’re still pretty upset about you taking our music.”

Bobby sighs and runs a hand down his face. “Yeah, that makes sense.” He goes to the couch and sits, moving with a little less familiarity than he would have if this were still his home. “I didn’t mean to steal it.”

Alex sits next to him. “Julie showed me a video from one of your early gigs where you credited us. Why did you stop?”

“I signed a bad contract,” Bobby says. “They wouldn’t let me credit any of you, and for a while I did even though my manager gave me shit for it, but the assholes threatened to cut me from the label. I figured at the time that it was more important for your music to be heard. Now I think I should have fought harder.”

Alex doesn’t really know what to say to that, so he just shrugs.

“I don’t keep any of the money from our songs,” Bobby continues. “I did at first, because I needed it to survive, but now all the profits from it go to charity. To LGBT organizations and homeless shelters and abuse survivors and music programs. Stuff I thought you guys would like.”

“That’s— that’s pretty perfect,” Alex admits. There’s a moment of silence, not nearly as comfortable as it should be between the two of them, before Alex asks, “Why’d you change your name?”

Bobby sucks in a sharp breath. “Part of it was because my managers didn’t want anything connecting me to Sunset Curve. But mostly… it just hurt too much. You guys gave me that name, and it felt wrong to have anyone but you call me that.”

“Okay,” Alex says cautiously, “so should I call you Trevor, then?”

“No,” he says immediately. “I’ve spent the last twenty-five years dreaming that I’d get to hear you call me Bobby again someday. Please don’t call me Trevor.”

Alex nods, relaxing a little more. It’s getting a lot easier to believe that this is Bobby in front of him.

“Was it as good as we hoped?” Alex asks. “The rock star life?”

Bobby hesitates. “Honestly? It sucks.” He lets out a bitter laugh, something terribly tired and broken, and Alex can’t help but think that that’s Trevor, not Bobby. “I’m going to retire soon, as soon as my record contract with this new label is up. It’s just—It’s not worth doing alone. Even from the beginning, I knew it would be awful without you guys, but it just seemed like the only thing I could do.”

“Oh,” Alex says softly. “So, are you… are you not happy?” A tiny, selfish part of Alex wants to hear that he’s not, that he never got over the loss of his boys, that his career built on semi-stolen music wasn’t satisfying. But a bigger, much louder part of him wants nothing more than for his best friend to be happy. He just hopes it didn’t take losing Alex for him to get there.

“I am happy,” Bobby says, and Alex slumps in relief. “I mean, I miss you guys every day. That pain never goes away, and I have… a lot of regrets, but I’m happy. My daughter, man, she makes everything worth it. And…and Rose is gone but Ray and their kids… It’s not a full family, it could never be without you guys, but I’m happy.”

“Me too,” Alex says, and he finds he means it. “It’s weird without you, but… but what we have with Julie is amazing. And, um,” Alex ducks his head, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. “I sort of have a boyfriend?”

“Yeah?” Bobby asks, his face lighting up. “What’s his name?”

“Willie,” Alex says, unable to help the grin that spreads across his face whenever his boyfriend is brought up. “They’re perfect, honestly. He—he makes me feel calm, you know?”

“I’m so happy for you, Al,” Bobby grins. “Do I get to meet them?”

Alex snaps his head to look at him. “You want to meet him?”

Trevor balks, suddenly sheepish. “Yeah, I mean, if—if that’s something you want.”

“I do,” Alex says quickly. “I do, I just… I wasn’t sure if— I mean, you’re an adult now, with this whole life I know nothing about, and I was kind of worried that you… you wouldn’t want to hang out with me anymore.”

“Alex,” Bobby gapes. “I’ve spent every day of the past twenty-five years wishing I could just hear your voice again. Getting to—to see you and talk to you and be a part of your life—or, afterlife, I guess—I would never pass that up.”

Alex pulls Bobby into another hug, feeling the tears well up again. “I want that too. God, I want that so bad.”

Bobby sniffles into Alex’s shoulder. “I love you, Buggy.”

“I love you too, Bobbers,” Alex whispers back.

Bobby clears his throat and pulls away with a shit eating grin. “Now tell me more about this boyfriend.” He wiggles his eyebrows teasingly, and Alex rolls his eyes, but there’s nothing but happiness behind it.

“So we first met when he ran me over…”

They talk for the rest of the afternoon, and it feels like coming home, like the missing piece of his heart has finally returned to its rightful place. Alex knows Luke and Reggie will come around eventually, and when they do, their family will finally be complete again. Bigger, this time, but finally complete.