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It was a good day, or at least better than most days which was something he learned not to overlook a long time ago.
He’d read somewhere that most people didn’t really wish for things to be fantastic so much as they wished for them to be okay and he could definitely relate to that.
So maybe okay was a better word than good, it sounds less like a lie at least and he’s usually not one for lying when he can avoid it.
An okay day then- at least it starts that way.
He has an easy morning, laughing through English with Tory and Shawn. It's the only time of day when it’s guaranteed that no one will bother him and most people are still tired enough to be quiet (or at least quieter than they are later in the day.)
So morning was good, Shawn’s mere presence acting as protection against the rest of the world as he helped his friends put their essay outlines together.
A lot of people thought he was super smart just because he was a decent writer but he’s pretty sure it’s just because he reads a lot.
Not that it matters, he does well enough to get good grades and help Shawn when he struggles, really that’s all that matters to him.
His second period was an online computer science class given through the community college nearby in the library which was also blissfully quiet.
For a library it’s usually quite loud, ever since the librarian started to sell snacks for less money than the vending machine in order to raise money for the soccer team it has become the new cool hangout spot where kids go to ditch class.
He hates it, this place was somewhere he should feel at home, full of books. For his first two years at school it has been his only refuge but now that’s gone too.
It's whatever- he’s learned by now that there’s nothing you can’t lose. No matter how much you need something the universe has no qualms about ripping it away and letting you drown. He feels like that most days- like he’s drowning.
But today it was quiet enough that the loop earplugs he wore blocked out the clacking of computer keys and the hum of the AC.
At lunch he sits with Sam and the other girls on the cheer team but he’s not really friends with them. Except Sam of course but she’s his stepsister so that hardly counts, and probably Moon she’s nice as well and he likes her, but mostly he’s not a part of their group.
He’d still rather sit with Shawn and Tory but they’re in detention for something, possibly the fight they got in last week after some asshole (Kyler) said something to him.
He doesn’t even remember what it was but it was probably bad if they had to get physically involved. Worse than what they usually hear anyway.
The other girls are talking about their new cheer uniforms and trying to guess what might be different, he doesn’t see the point if he’s being honest. He’ll know what’s different when they hand it to him and until then he’s busy pretending they won’t have new uniforms.
He likes his current uniform, it’s reasonably comfortable and it fits him well and the colors don’t bother him too much and he just really likes it.
Because of this the conversation is grating on his nerves, he knows things have to change, he’s been told it a thousand times but why do they have to rub it in?
Logically he knows that’s not what’s happening and that the other girls on the team are totally clueless but that doesn’t really make him feel better.
His last class before lunch was also uneventful, painful but no more than usual. It was even a little bit better because the girl who sat across from him and put perfume on halfway through the class every day was absent.
So it was an okay day, until PE of course.
The whole process was excruciating, and he didn’t even mind exercise. He did two sports and thought he should be able to count that as credit but the school disagreed.
It’s pretty much the worst part of every day for a variety of reasons, starting with the locker rooms which were smelly (sweat, cologne, vape, and body odor among other things.) Then there’s the fact that he has to change and he already feels like half his energy for the day is gone just from putting his clothes on the first time and he does not want to take them off (he’ll already have to change into his cheer uniform later which is bad enough.) And of course the PE clothes are unbearable, nothing like his soft cotton shirts at home. The fabric is stiff and heavy and it rubs against his neck which has caused him to go home with a ring of scratches around his throat more times than he can count.
So all in all it’s pretty much hell for him (not that school isn’t always.) But probably Kyler is the worst part, he’d never gotten bullied much before high school and still doesn’t. In fact he’s pretty popular, though that is certainly more because of his friends and boyfriend than because of him.
He’s pretty sure the reason for that is just that growing up he was quiet enough to go unnoticed, or when he wasn’t quiet he was weird in a way that was entertaining.
Or people were scared of his dad, they’d all heard the stories of the black belt karate master police officer getting a principal fired for calling his son special along with quite a few other things he hadn’t known the meaning of at the time and tries not to think about now.
He remembers telling his dad about the principal's reaction, how he’d been called special and thought it was a compliment because it sounds like it is only it hadn’t been meant that way.
At the time he’d been happy even though he got sent to the office for some reason because he liked knowing he was wanted after his mom dropped him off at Johnny’s one night when he was five and never came back.
He’d repeated other things that had been said that he didn’t really understand but assumed were nice and turned out not to be and was more than a little confused when Daniel had to nearly tackle his father into submission when the police chief had snatched his belt with the gun off the table and stormed toward the loud car, the one he refused to get in because he was afraid it would get loud or bright on accident.
But yeah whatever the fallout had been the principal was fired and it had become yet another legend about the notorious chief of police, probably one of the only true ones, something the people in town whispered about.
Don’t say things about the Lawrence kid, his dad will hunt you down.
Apparently Kyler never got the message.
At least his dad doesn’t know about it, it’s all he can do to keep Tory and Shawn off his back but luckily for him Kyler is too much of a coward to do anything in front of a crowd and usually after Shawn gets involved he has at least a month of peace.
Still the whistle makes his brain scream at him to curl up in a ball on the track and cover his ears and cry until Miguel or his dad comes and finds him and takes him somewhere safe.
He doesn’t, he just switches earplugs to the ones that are more noise canceling and continues on even as he feels like he’s fraying inside, coming apart.
He ditches the last ten minutes, positive that he’ll fall apart at the slightest touch and slips into the locker room to change. Just the act of taking his clothes off feels monumental and impossible and the fabric makes his skin feel like it’s being sliced to ribbons.
Tears burn his eyes as he braces his forearms against the freezing metal, trying to ground himself and fighting the urge to slam his head against it. He still has practice after this but might be able to avoid getting anymore overwhelmed if he just rests for thirty minutes until practice starts, it’s not in any way unusual for him to be teetering on the edge of a meltdown or shutdown by this time of day.
He just needs a few minutes of quiet hidden in Miguel’s car before practice.
Instead someone is pushing roughly at his shoulder, the other hand spread on his chest as the touch burns painfully. He gasps at the sensation that he’s always compared to ants crawling under his skin, it’s shocking when minutes ago the room had been empty.
“What,” he mutters, glancing at what he can see foggily. Normally he’d be able to fight someone but he can feel the exhaustion and lack of cooperation from his arms and doesn’t think it’ll work too well right now.
“Stop it,” he murmurs as someone laughs- instantly he recognizes the leering noise and knows it’s Kyler. It’s absolutely terrifying and if he was teetering on the edge of a meltdown before he can feel it building now, the distress that causes the familiar spike in sensory information.
It’s always painful, at least when he’s at school it is but he manages to get through most days. But this is just too much and he feels the familiar aching in his chest and the burning pressure and he’d been struggling to get words out for a few days now but he knows he won’t be able to talk or communicate like this.
The whole world kind of just narrows down to the awful touch and he thrashes away from it, falling on his ass on the ground as Kyler advances on him.
He’s quick to scramble across the rough cement and curl his back against the corner so he knows they won’t be able to come up behind.
His whole body hurts as he squeezes his eyes shut and rocks back and forth trying desperately to make it stop as his fingers fumble with the cord of his gym shorts, kicking them off as he feet scrabble against the rough tile and he cries harder as the rough cement scrapes at his sensitive skin.
Kyler doesn’t stop the whole time, spitting insults and poking at him like a sea creature in a touch tank at the aquarium.
He remembered how when he really started talking around his dad for the first time, about a year after his mom left all he’d been willing to discuss was the ocean so his dad had taken him to the aquarium. It was one of the few successful outings they had in the beginning although there had been an incident when he’d broken down crying at the sight of the touch pools and his dad had to explain that the sea creatures weren’t being hurt by it even though it was his personal hell.
Apparently he’s living it now.
Kyler keeps poking and prodding and running his hands over his arms as he presses down harder on his ears to block out the cruel taunts.
He can hear himself making little pained noises and can taste blood from biting his already gnawed up lip. He knows there’s a chewy stim necklace in Miguel’s car and wishes he hadn’t fought so hard not to bring it into the building.
The salty metal sweetness of blood does nothing to calm his overwhelmed senses and just makes him cry harder, hands reaching up to tug at his hair. He twists his fingers in as close to the scalp as he can and pulls- hard enough that his scalp aches and the taunts quiet, that ever present lull of voices fading out.
It takes him a minute to realize they’ve actually stopped and are now looking at him a bit like they’re afraid as he cracks his eyes open.
The light pieces through his skull and he whines and slams his head back against the wall once. Normally when he has a meltdown this intense Miguel or his dad is there to place their hand or a bunched up hoodie between his head and the wall, it’s the first time he’s realizing how much that helped because this fucking hurts.
But it makes things quieter.
Dimly in the back of his mind he’s aware he’s hurting himself and alternates to hitting his head with his wrists until both throb painfully.
It clearly scares Kyler enough that he and his lackeys disappear, leaving him there to cry and rock himself gently as he begins to calm down.
The earplugs are still in, in fact he’d pushed them so far in that his ears ache dullly, but because of it he doesn’t hear Miguel coming until the locker room lights are switched off and there are quick familiar footsteps on the ground.
The room isn’t pitch black but the only window is far enough away that when he cracks his eyes open it doesn’t feel too much like someone is gripping his eyeballs and pulling.
‘Can I touch you?’ Miguel signs quickly and he shakes his head frantically as his boyfriend gathers the PE shorts off the floor and gently hands him his hoodie. ‘Can you move? Everyone will be back soon’ he continues, movements soothing and gentle and familiar.
He’s always been better at signing than Johnny, his dad has hands made for fighting and even after years his signing is clumsy and hesitant. Miguel’s is graceful and steady and he likes the way the light looks through his fingers.
He nods, not in a decent enough headspace to sign his response, fingers already busy tapping anxiously at his thigh.
Really he can’t move but staying is hardly an option, if everyone comes back there’s no chance of him not falling back into another more intense meltdown.
He pulls the hoodie on over his boxers and shakes his head when Miguel asks if he has pants he can wear. Instead his boyfriend grabs his cheer skirt which is not great but is better than nothing and he pulls it on.
Miguel’s hoodies are absolutely his favorite comfort item because they’re soft and only carry hints of scent from his deodorant and shampoo.
When they’d first started dating he’d been sure it wouldn’t last, that when Miguel realized how hard he had to fight to just get through the day he’d be over it. He wouldn’t have blamed him, he knows he’s weird and obsessive and too stubborn.
Instead he’d stopped wearing cologne and even asked what laundry detergent he used so he could switch out the one that bothered Robby. So basically what he’s saying is that Miguel is precious.
He might not be able to fix things but he’s always there and sometimes he makes things a little easier. At the very least being with him has made him feel like he has a chance at making it out of this school alive which is hardly a small thing.
The hoodie covers his butt and hides most of the skirt and Miguel offers him a hand up since he’s still shaking and stimming anxiously. ‘Won’t touch your skin,” he signs quickly and finally he nods.
Miguel’s fingers curl around the thick heavy fabric of his hoodie sleeve while the other hand comes to rest on the small of his back and gently pulls him forward. A part of him wants to hug Miguel, always wants to be close to him and touching him but he can’t right now and despite knowing the reality would be the opposite of comforting it makes more tears well in his eyes.
He’s still not used to wanting physical contact, having spent so much time and energy avoiding it but he’s learned that it’s not always bad. Sometimes he craves a strong embrace from his dad or Miguel gripping his hand a little too tight. As long as it’s on his terms he doesn’t mind it, even the occasional hug from Sam or Daniel.
But he’s barely managing to stay on his feet, dizzy from the overwhelming emotions and sensory input (slamming his head into the wall probably didn’t help) Miguel grabs him around the torso and pulls him against his chest, the hood he’d pulled up keeps his skin from touching at the sudden movement.
Miguel helps straighten him up quickly and gently, and he readjusts so the hoodie sleeves are covering his hands before reconsidering and signing ‘I love you.’ It's only one sign but still his hands shake with the same desperate energy.
Miguel is quick to sign it back.
The walk to the car is not fun but at least no one tries to stop them from leaving, no one notices him, no one ever notices him- except when he wants them too. Laughing with Sam, touching Miguel casually, cheer performances- that’s what they see and is not fake but it’s not him either, not by itself.
He’s pretty sure most people don’t even know he’s autistic, he doesn’t keep it a secret or anything, would tell anyone who asked it’s just that no one ever does. Sometimes even his dad who knows the warning signs misses it, says he’s too good at masking.
He is sometimes but mostly he’s just quiet and people don’t really notice quiet.
He knows Moon knows and some of Miguel’s friends as well, he’d been worried at first that Miguel would be embarrassed by him and wouldn’t want to say anything but in the end he says it the same way as his dad.
Casually like it’s no big deal, it’s just something true. He’s a picky eater, he likes rain and the ocean, he’s autistic. They don’t treat him like it’s nothing, like it’s not important or doesn’t make his life harder but at the end of the day that’s who he is and that’s how they say it.
Shawn and Tory say it like a challenge, like they’re asking if anyone has a problem with that and you better tread lightly with your response.
Sam says it carefully like she really hopes there’s not a bad reaction because she knows how often that happens and doesn’t want to see him break down on the bathroom floor again.
His mom used to say it like he was sick, always ‘Robby has autism,’ never ‘Robby’s autistic.’ There was always bitterness there, his mom treating him like he was crazy, holding his hands at his sides and turning up the music in the car when he cried to block out the sound.
He doesn’t have a lot of good memories of his mom, she’d always drank but after his diagnosis pill bottles had started appearing in their house and there has been more men around the apartment and driving him to his ABA therapy, and patting him on the knee or back and telling him he didn’t need to worry, there’d be a cure someday.
He doesn’t want to be cured, he loves being autistic- loves the way positive sensory input can make him feel like he’s flying and how happy he feels when he’s engaging with a special interest.
He’s still self conscious about it sometimes and it’s still hard and still disabling but he wouldn’t change it because it's who he is.
It still breaks his heart that those memories overtook the ones from before his diagnosis when Shannon’s neglect had allowed most of his struggles to go unnoticed, he knows there were better times but it’s hard to remember them.
Most of the time it feels like his life has been divided into before and after Shannon left him on Johnny's doorstep that night.
Opening his eyes he focuses heavily on Miguel who is sitting patiently beside him. ‘I just need a few minutes, then we can get ready for practice,’ he signs shakily but Miguel shakes his head.
‘We’re skipping practice today,’ Miguel signs rapidly- pulling out of the parking space ‘you’ve been pushing yourself too hard with cheer this semester, I know you love it but you need a break okay? Just please don’t go today.’
He’s still ready to protest that he’s supposed to be there, that people are counting on him but when he looks up there is a sheen of tears on his boyfriend's cheeks so he just nods and Miguel relaxes.
He adjusts the noise canceling headphones he has no memory of putting on and drags the weighted blanket Miguel keeps in the trunk tighter around him.
‘Can we watch Dear Evan Hansen when we get home?’ He asks, widening his eyes and pushing his lower lip out into a pout the way he always does when he wants something. It’s not like Miguel is going to say no anyway.
Sure enough Miguel nods immediately and hands him his phone so he can rent it before they get home, he rocks gently in the seat and takes deep breaths as he finds the movie and rents it so it will show up on Miguel’s laptop by the time they get home.
His heart melts when he looks at his boyfriend's new phone background. It's a picture of him the Halloween after his mom left, the first one with his dad, dressed as Elsa.
Frozen was probably his first hyper fixation, he’d watched it everyday and could repeat every line with the characters, all he’d wanted was to be Elsa for Halloween but his mom hadn’t let him because he wasn’t a girl.
He’d never forget his dad in the costume store asking jokingly if he wanted to be a police officer for Halloween and ruffling his hair over the earmuffs in the way he only sometimes minded. Probably he’d been staring at the other section because his dad picked him up securely (nothing like his mom's soft fleeting burning touches) and led him into the girls section, picking up the blue and silver dress and all of the accessories.
He’d been confused at first and scared but than his dad had patted his stomach and asked if he picked the right one (like he hadn’t heard every one of Robby’s frozen rants at least eighteen times) and he’d nodded and spent the rest of the trip happily flapping his hands and bouncing in Johnnys strong arms.
Nothing could spoil his mood, not even when the cashier said something mean he didn’t hear because he was too excited to listen and his dad snarled something at him in return that was probably meaner and he couldn’t hear because it was too quiet.
In the following weeks Daniel had even helped him sew soft fabric into the interior of the dress to fix the itchiness.
It had been the best Halloween of his life and probably still was.
It’s sweet that Miguel keeps the picture with him although he’s not sure how to feel about the fact that his dad is apparently handing out his baby pictures, at least he doesn’t have any from before he was five, and Johnny has never taken any of him naked.
He wonders if there even were any pictures from that part of his life and if there were where his mom put them and when she stopped caring enough to take them.
‘Can I touch you yet?’ Miguel signs and he nods, relaxing into his boyfriend's familiar embrace when Miguel drags him into a steady hug.
His hand trails up his thigh and pushes underneath the cheer skirt in a way that has him blushing slightly as Miguel smiles teasingly.
It’s a nice moment, something far away from the torture earlier today and the thought of school tomorrow. But it’s still a bit much ‘can you just- over my clothes’ he signs and Miguel nods, moving his hand to cup his ass over the little cheer skirt instead of under it before smoothing out the rumpled sweater and pressing a kiss to his hair.
It’s better without their skin touching, less overwhelming and he leans into the steady pressure of Miguel’s torso as his boyfriend wraps a strong arm around his waist and leads him towards the house.
He’s still pretty overwhelmed but he’s coming out of it slowly,
Still a bit wobbly though which makes Miguel’s grip even more helpful. ‘How bad do I look?’ He signs, all too aware of the hitting and scratching that were going on.
He’s not used to it, as he’s gotten older his full on external meltdowns have become less frequent as they turn into shutdowns, at least in school. He’d heard someone on the internet call it an internal meltdown which is pretty accurate, it feels the same only scarier.
It’s like his brain is crumbling and he’s drowning in it and no one even notices. In a lot of ways it’s worse because all the input and the pain is still there but he’s frozen, unable to do anything to stop it- even if that thing is hurting himself.
This is different because it’s noticeable, he’s not invisible and thinking about that for too long will send him right back to where he started, so he pushes it painfully down until after the movie.
Hopefully he can get to a place where one wrong sound or touch or movement won’t have him slip again, he’s tired and doesn’t think he could take it.
But with the extent of the burnout he’s been experiencing it’s unlikely he’ll be able to recover quickly or at any time in the next two months.
The thought of how unbearable everything has been for weeks and the thought of it being worse- he’s started hitting his wrists together by the time his dad opens the door, earmuffs dangling from his arm after he pulled them off in the driveway.
“Hey kiddo, how’re you doing?” His dad asks quietly, his gruff voice pitched low as he opens his arms, the offer of an embrace if it's what he wants.
He steps into the circle of his dad's arms, desperate for something to keep him together. His dad always squeezes him a little too tightly and it’s one of his favorite things about the man, with his face pressed against Johnny's hard chest he can feel the familiar strength of the arms wrapped around him.
“Jesus Robby what happened?” His dad asks so softly it’s barely a whisper as he rubs his cheek over the soft fabric of the soothing blue shirt.
He shakes his head and Johnny presses a steady kiss to his forehead “it’s okay kid I got it,” his dad murmurs “You don’t have to talk.”
He wants to though, maybe not talk but communicate- even as his hands are back to their anxious rubbing against his skirt, nails dug slightly into the skin as he can’t force himself to sign.
Frustrated tears prick at his eyes and Miguel sighs gently and kisses his forehead. “I think I’m going to go get you a churro sweetheart, give you a minute with your dad- unless that’s not okay.”
When he doesn’t protest Miguel presses a quick kiss to his bitten lips and smoothes his hair back before grabbing his car keys again.
He starts crying harder the second Miguel leaves, he’s frustrated and overwhelmed and his whole body hurts. Three hours ago he’d been sitting there thinking today was okay and now he’s coming apart at the seams again.
“I got you kiddo, you’re safe” Johnny says softly against his hair, directing him to the couch and letting him curl up on his dads lap- rocking slowly and whining.
“Don’t make me go back-“ he begs and it’s the first words he’s managed since English this morning. He knows it’s irrational but he’s so fucking desperate, can hardly imagine a world in which he can survive this.
He’s just not strong enough.
“You know if it was my choice you’d never be there again but there’s nothing I can do- shit kid I’m supposed to protect you I’m just so fucking sorry Robby.” His dad mutters thickly, kissing his head again as he tries to take deep breaths and continue the sporadic tapping of his fingers against Johnny's spine.
“I just want things to be okay but it hurts- I’m so tired I can’t-“ he breaks down crying harder than he has in months, he’s missed too much school already but he can’t help that it makes him miserable.
“It’s okay I’ve got you,” Johnny murmurs, his calloused hands stroking the heavy fabric of his hoodie with a familiar rhythm.
“I’m sorry,” he finally manages-still crying. “I know it’s not your fault I’m just so scared all the time that I’ll n-never get out,” he manages around the lump in his throat.
His dad sighs heavily and tightens his grip “I know you are Robby but you will get out okay and things will get better.” He clings tightly to the words “I w-won’t be able to go tomorrow,” he whispers “I’ll just lose it all over again- probably worse than before.”
Before he can keep talking Miguel is back with a churro from the cart a couple streets over and kissing the palm of his hand before placing his favorite treat in it.
“Damn you Diaz, I was going to give him ice cream!” Johnny whines like the child he truly is and they both laugh, a bit watery on his part but better than nothing, “Sorry sensei but I’ll always be Robby’s favorite!” Miguel says back.
He is so grateful they keep their voices low, “You’re both my favorites,” he supplies through another wet giggle. Miguel accepts graciously but his dad scowls “I used to be his favorite,” he mutters petulantly.
Miguel nods at Johnny's words making his scowl deepen as he picks up the remote and finds the rental.
As Miguel gets the movie set up, his dad waves a hand in front of his face to get his attention. “I’ll call the school tomorrow, tell them you’re not coming in.”
He glances up briefly “t-they said they’d send the cops if I missed too much school without a doctors note,” he reminds Johnny shakily but his dad has that hard look he gets when he won’t budge.
“Fuck them I’m the chief of police, they can do whatever the hell they want,” his dad snarls slightly too loudly and he flinches and taps his fingers faster against Miguel’s thigh as his boyfriend gives Johnny an unimpressed look.
“Or you could just ask Robby’s therapist for a note, anyone who’s bothered to talk to him for five minutes could tell how bad he’s been doing lately and she knows where he was before and where he is now- it would make sense,” Miguel suggests, rubbing his knee.
Johnny nods in agreement, “I’ll call now and pick it up and drive it to your school tomorrow morning” his dad informs them, getting off the couch and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
He can see his dad walking toward the kitchen before getting distracted by Daniel opening the door and dragging him into an eager kiss.
Miguel looks over at them and signs a reminder to his dad before settling back into the couch cushions and dragging the weighted blanket over them.
“You go to those classes everyday,” Miguel starts quietly, rubbing at the palm of his hands and over the light always fading scars from his nails “and I’ve seen you having enough meltdowns to know that that wasn’t just something being a bit too much and triggering you.”
He has to wince at how well Miguel knows him and presses a bit closer to him as he shrugs, skirt being pushed up at the movement. “I left PE early because the teacher kept blowing the whistle-“ Miguel’s hands tighten on his knee and he whispers a quiet “dick” under his breath that makes Robby giggle.
“Anyway I was just going to change and sit in your car until practice started but I had my earplugs in and I didn’t hear Kyler coming in. They were just touching me, pushing me around I guess and I tried to get away but I fell over. They sort of just kept p-poking me until I started hitting myself and that freaked them out enough to leave I- sorry,” he adds in a whisper when tears spring to his eyes “s’ not a big deal.”
Miguel sighs and tightens his grip “it’s a huge deal, you’ve been struggling so much already and I just wish there was more I could do for you, but Kyler is a problem I can fix- at least with a little help from your dad.”
He relaxes in relief at that comment, he doesn’t really want to know the details but he trusts Miguel.
“Okay just- never mind it’s not like things are going to get worse.” He mutters and Miguel’s arms tighten marginally around him, the familiar muscles are hard under his skin and he taps a light rhythm against his boyfriend's wrist as Miguel hums and leans over to press a soft kiss against his cheek, before moving down his neck and sucking gently.
He moans loudly- skin still over sensitive to the point of it almost being too much even as he wiggles in his spot and Miguel finishes with another light kiss over the spot.
“You know you look so pretty like this,” he murmurs and he feels the familiar warmth in his chest at the compliment, a bit bashful as he curiously waits for Miguel to continue. “In my sweater and that short little skirt of yours,” he teases slightly “you know it takes all of my concentration during a game to just play when all I really want is to fu-“
Johnny comes back in and plops himself down on Robby’s other side as he flushes and looks up at Miguel who looks a little embarrassed but offers him a goofy smile.
“You’re never going to get over the skirt huh?” He asks softly and Miguel laughs and shakes his head “just on you baby,” he adds sweetly making his heart do a little jump in his chest.
“Well maybe if you did fuck me in it you’d be less distracted during games,” he whispers in Miguel’s ear and he can see his boyfriends eyes widen comically as he nods rapidly. “Only because I’m a cheerleader y’ know? It’s my responsibility to make sure the team wins and we can’t have our best player being distracted-“
Miguel cuts him off with a kiss muttering a “shut up,” against his lips even as he smiles.
“Go to sleep baby, we can watch the movie again tomorrow for now you should rest, okay, I’ve got you and I won’t let go.” He promises, rubbing up and down his arm over the hoodie as he curls up on Miguel’s chest with his feet in his dad's lap and yawns eyes closing.
He can’t help thinking that maybe things will be okay someday, even if they’re not right now.
As long as he has his dad and Miguel he can get there and in moments like these, that feels like enough.