Chapter Text
Thomas sighed, his hand propping up his cheek. Mumbled curses spilled from his lips as he tried to keep them quiet, although a few made him jump and yell out loudly. Luckily, he was still in the car, still just sitting with his mom as he looked out blearily at his new school.
“Why couldn’t I—fuck!—have stayed at my old school?” He groaned, looking back at his mom, away from the car window. She gave him a supportive smile, squeezing his cheek affectionately, even though her eyes held some sadness.
“Remember darling, the principal–”
“The principal got fed up of—shit!—he got fed up of having to deal with me. I know, I know.” He sighed once more, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How are you any sure this school is going to be different?”
“Well,” His mother started, giving him another quick, fleeting smile. “This school has already dealt with a kid like you before, or at least the town district has.”
Oh, he wished she hadn’t reminded him of that: Eric Cartman, that pudgy boy from the fourth grade, those six or so years ago. By chance, he’d caught a glimpse of him in a toy store, heard what he said and did, and idolized it. It was honestly infuriating, and the thought made his head pound.
Luckily, one of his classmates, maybe even one of his friends with how well the boy seemed to know Eric, had stepped up and put a stop to it, enlisting his help.
Still, he felt angry about it, angry someone would use his disability, his illness, to try and make themselves look cool, or above the rules. Even after only knowing of that boy for a few days, he’d seen how he acted and knew that if he did lie and tell the world he had Tourettes, surely he’d overdone it.
So, hopefully, if everything went well then he’d practically go unnoticed, or at least by the faculty.
Sparing one more glance back at his mother, tearing his eyes away from the absolute flood of teenagers spilling into the school, he hesitated at her expression. Hope… the sad kind. She was exhausted, he could tell that at the very least. She wanted this to work out for him, wanted this place to be his final school. After dealing with him for years, the least he could do was this for her.
He sighed once more and leaned over, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Love you, Mom.”
She smiled, squeezing him into an awkward sort of hug between the seats of the car before poking him in the arm lovingly. “I love you too, my crazy little thing.” She laughed breathily, unlocking the car doors. “Now hurry, I don’t want you to be late for your first day!”
He waved goodbye, hitching his bag up to his shoulders and stepping out of the car. Immediately he was hit with a cool breeze, flurrying up under his thin jacket and making him shiver. Thankfully, it wasn’t winter just yet, caught in that purgatory of not quite fall, not quite winter that Colorado seemed to inhabit so well.
He hummed, freeing his hood from under the straps of his bag and tucking it up against his red cheeks, already bitten by the cold wind. “Fuck,” he groaned, keeping his head down as he weaved between students.
Luckily, they all were too caught up in their own chattering, their own conversations, and excitement to notice the new student as he quietly (as quietly as he could, that was) made his way toward the office, where he received his schedule.
Thomas had done his best to keep his tics down and stop himself from possibly offending the office lady, but as a loud profanity spilled past his lips, all she did was blink in shock before smiling.
“Oh! I knew I recognized your name when you asked for your papers,” She smiled. “You’re our new boy with Tourettes Syndrome, right?”
Startled at the warmth he was being welcomed with, he nodded, mouth shut tight. She grinned, nodding to herself with satisfaction.
“I knew it. We had a boy who…” She paused, an expression of distaste filling her face. “Who claimed he had Tourettes, although I never really believed it.”
He shifted awkwardly on his feet, a few more tics escaping him as he waited for the last of his papers, which she gave to him quickly.
“I’m sorry, it completely passed my mind!” She apologized as she handed the papers over. “Today, since it’s your first day and all, I’ve called in one of our students to show you around, seeing as he has a majority of your classes and is an honors student, I’m sure he’ll be a nice fit to keep you company your first few days.”
He nodded, skimming his class schedule. The bell had already rung twice, leaving only the last bell before he’d be officially late to class. But, seeing as he’d have a…tour guide, almost, he was sure he’d be alright for the rest of the day. Besides, empty hallways made him feel better…like there weren’t many people watching him.
He stood in the office, shifting on his feet until he heard the door ring, the small bell at the top signifying a new entrance.
“Hey, Mrs. Ellen,” The voice behind him hummed, seeming all too familiar. “I’m supposed to show that new–”
As Thomas turned, he was shockingly met with a familiar face. Kyle, the boy who had had him help derail Cartman’s television special, was now far taller than he was back then, reaching about two inches above Thomas instead of them being on equal footing.
It wasn’t a sturdy height, something you’d definitely see from maybe someone who played basketball. He was tall and lanky, rather thin too. His ushanka from childhood was no longer on his head, replaced likely by the green beanie he was twisting in his hands, leaving his hair uncovered. With a shock, he realized that his hair was bright red and curly, something he’d not known him long enough in childhood to see.
Eyes locked on Thomas, he didn’t even stir as Thomas yelped out a quick, “shit ,” and instead held out a hand.
“Hey Thomas, it’s been a while.” His face easily shifted into a quick grin, showing off perfectly straight teeth. He was dressed in casual clothing, thankfully not the winter clothes that the children in this portion of town had always seemed to wear, instead wearing a large, soft-looking grey sweater that fell around his collarbone, and a pair of light-colored, baggy jeans. Tucked underneath the cuff of the jeans were black boots, large and heavy-looking as he shifted on his feet.
Thomas waited another second before returning to the present, shaking out of his shock to extend a hand to meet his own. “Hey Kyle,” He muttered, moving the books and papers in his arms around uncomfortably.
“We should probably get to class so you can sort those books out.” Waving a quick goodbye to the office lady, he held the door open for Thomas to stumble through. They walked a few feet before Kyle reached over, lifting a few of the books from Thomas’ arms, just enough for him to walk more comfortably.
“Thanks,” He sighed, grateful for the relief of the weight being lifted.
“No problem. What number is your locker, so we can shove these in there?”
“Uh…” Biting back a curse as best as he could, he dug around in his jacket pocket, pulling out a sheet of paper from the brown coat. “Locker number… 2456?”
“Oh, so pretty near Tolkien and Clyde’s lockers. I know where that is… this way.” He quickly turned, leaving Thomas scrambling to catch up.
“So…” He started, following behind his footsteps. “How’s um- how’ve you—ass—...been?” He grimaced at his interjection, and while he was entirely fine with it, seeing as it was a part of who he was, it was still annoying, especially while trying to reconcile with an old…friend?
Were he and Kyle friends? He supposed at the least they were acquaintances, what with having worked together as children, but he wasn’t sure how well that fell into them now.
“I’ve been alright, Cartman is being as annoying as ever, although I think within these past few years he’s sorta calmed down?” Kyle frowned. “I dunno, these past few months he’s been more relaxed actually, and he’s been hanging out around us less. Probably good anyway, since he’s just kinda an asshole.”
“Yeah.” Thomas blinked at the locker they stopped in front of, unlatching it and relishing in the empty space. He dumped his books in there, quickly organizing them before Kyle hummed.
“We have a study hall first hour, so you don’t need to bring anything. Maybe your laptop if you get bored.” He frowned. “I think… I think you can sit with my friends and me, and if you don’t like it there are other classmates of ours you can sit with if you’d like.”
“Sounds good.”
He wasn’t thrilled to have to sit next to Cartman, but he’d said friends, which meant there was at least another person he could talk to besides Kyle. But, as uncomfortable as he was, he was relieved that of all the kids to show him around, it was Kyle. He was starting to like him already, and he had the feeling they’d be good friends.
They stopped in front of a door, and Kyle spared a glance back at him. “You ready?”
Thomas sighed. “Fuck no. Let’s go.”
Kyle smiled, giving him a nod before opening the door and ushering him in. Right in front of where they were, across the room, sat the teacher’s desk, where an older woman glared out lazily at the class. She looked like they were annoying her, but she was far too used to it and too tired to notice. She glanced his way, her glare never faltering, and he blinked, too startled to even stop what he was saying.
“ COCK-NOSE–” He blurted, clamping a hand over his mouth with wide eyes. He wished he’d shut up, but he blurted out again, “SHIT BALLS-” The woman at the desk scowled, and before she could say anything, Kyle laid a hand on his shoulder, raising his other hand placatingly.
“It’s not his fault, he’s not trying to insult you, Ms. Choksondik. He’s got Tourettes.”
As her face softened into a slightly less angry glare, and she took her eyes off of him, Thomas glanced around the room. The students who had once had their eyes on him, staring blankly, Thomas noticed they had easily gone back to what they were doing, although a few still glanced at him from time to time.
“C’mon,” He mumbled, directing him to an empty seat toward the front, right near the teacher’s desk. “You can seat near me and Stan. Right next to Bebe.” As he pointed them out, Thomas frowned.
“Don’t you think—aw SHIT!— that um… sitting so close to the teacher’s desk with me like this is a bad thing?” Again, it wasn’t that he wasn’t proud of who he was, but doing that so often and so close to the teacher…didn’t sound good.
“She won’t mind. If she did, she’d do something. But this class is pretty chaotic most of the time anyway, so I don’t think it’ll matter.” He grinned, somewhat smugly. “Besides, I’m one of the smartest kids in this fucking class. If she’s got an issue with it, she’s gonna have a hard time doing something about it.”
For the first time that day, Thomas quietly laughed behind his hand, shaking his head as he quietly sat down in between Bebe and the seat Kyle slid into. The boy next to him, who he figured must have been Stan, reached over and extended a hand across Kyle’s desk.
“Hey man, I’m Stan. Nice to meet you.” He had rather dark hair, swept up into a nice hairstyle, stray locks of hair falling in front of his face. Objectively attractive, most definitely. He had dark brown eyes, a very stark contrast to Kyle’s bright blue. His skin had a nice tan to it, and as he took his hand to shake, he realized he was very warm as well.
“I’m—ass—fucking hell. I’m Thomas.” He shook his head at himself, muttering, “Way to make a first impression.”
“Nah, you’re good.” Stan pulled his hand back, reaching for a small, squishy ball. He gave it a squeeze before lobbing it up in the air toward Thomas, who caught it easily. “Pretty entertaining first impression actually, definitely a good one. So, you have Tourettes?”
“Yeah, had it since I was little.” He tossed it back easily, watching as Stan caught it and passed it between his hands.
“Sounds kinda like…” He trailed off before his eyes widened. Stopping his hands, he caught the ball and leaned toward Thomas with a grin. “No way. Were you-?”
“The kid your friend Cartman saw and then decided,” He threw on a mocking voice, pushing it to be how he remembered the boy sounded. “ Oh, I’m gonn- I’m gonna be just like that!” He raised a brow, watching as Stan barely held back a cackle.
“Dude, I remember that shit! Craig thought it was fucking awesome.”
“Who?” He couldn’t recall a Craig, but he knew he’d met a few of their classmates before. Leaning back, Stan swiveled around and pointed toward the very back of the classroom. A boy sat at the furthest desk, and something about him rang a bell of familiarity within Thomas.
That hat… he’d seen it before. Although, when he’d seen it last, it looked far too big on the child wearing it. Now it fit him perfectly, cupping around his face instead of practically hanging down on him.
Leaning into Kyle, he muttered, “Isn’t that the fucking kid who asked to do my laundry?”
Kyle cackled, looking at him with wide eyes. “He what?”
“I don’t— shit —I don’t fucking know? All I know is that like… after we got all those fucking pervs to—shit!— to head to where Cartman was, he’d come up to me and was all…” He frowned, trying to remember. Pushing his voice into a monotone drawl, he rasped, “ Hey, you seem pretty cool. Could I like, maybe do your laundry sometime?”
For a moment, Stan and Kyle were dead silent before bursting into infectious giggles, catching the attention of a few people around them. Even Thomas started to laugh quietly. The boy sitting behind Kyle threw a paper ball at his head, telling him to shut up, and as Thomas turned around, he paused, scowling.
There the bastard was. Eric Cartman in his fucking horrid glory. Looking just as pudgy as he did as a kid, he clearly didn’t grow out of the baby fat on his cheeks. He was wearing a fairly similar outfit as well, leaning back in his chair with an annoyed scowl.
“Shut the fuck up, damn Jew! I’m trying to talk to Kenny here!”
Kenny—assuming he was the boy with the zipped-up, orange hood that obscured his face—seemed completely unbothered as he skimmed through a magazine. However, he did glance up at Thomas, eyes scrunching up in what could only have been a smile, waving quickly at him before going back to looking at the magazine. A large, pin-up girl looking…rather nude…was on the cover, and Thomas turned away in some sort of respect, right as Kyle started to yell back at Cartman.
This seemed to be a normal occurrence, given that neither Kenny nor Stan nor anyone else in the room paid them any mind. He watched the room, filled with loud conversations that drowned out his tics easily, and a relieving thought came to mind.
Maybe this won’t be as bad as I thought.
He blinked, coming out of his train of thought as he watched a paper airplane fly over his head, landing on his desk. He frowned and glanced over at Stan in confusion.
“Ah, that’s from Craig, I can tell. He was probably trying to send it over to Clyde, he sits behind me. Here, let me have it.” Taking the airplane from his hands, he yelled, “Yo Tucker, get your fucking aim right!” before letting the plane sail over their heads. He watched the trajectory, and as it landed, he watched who picked it up.
Oh. Oh wow.
Why did he feel so breathless? That seemed unfair, no one should be that fucking pretty.
The plane had landed on the desk of a boy. His face was rounder, still having just that little bit of baby fat, but the rest of his face looked fucking beautiful. He wasn’t as thin as the other boys, and he had a bit of pudge to him, but in Thomas’ very professional opinion, it was just enough.
His brown hair trailed down his neck, leading into a very out-of-style mullet, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find it attractive, in the cutest sort of way. He watched as he grinned, watched as he picked up the airplane and opened it, eyes skimming the page. For a moment, he looked shocked before frowning.
“Craig,” He whined, drawing out the name loudly. “What the fuck man, you’re so mean!”
Thomas thought he was about to pass out.
His voice was… fucking quite frankly adorable. That surely wasn’t fair. Nothing about him was fair. As he watched him yell across the room to Craig, who was lost in quiet giggles, Thomas grinned, propping his head up with his hand.
He was pouting so cutely, his mouth downturned ever so slightly as his brows furrowed.
Clyde was intoxicatingly adorable.
It wasn’t until he’d seen fingers snapping in front of his face that he blinked out of his stupor, blinking back over at Stan and Kyle.
They looked entertained, watching him for just a few more moments before Stan laughed, “Dude, do you think Clyde’s cute or something?”
Thomas’ eyes widened and he blinked owlishly. “What-” He bit his cheek as if trying to prevent the inevitable “shit-" that came from his mouth, “What do you mean?”
Kyle snorted, shaking his head. “I mean, you were looking at him like he hung the world on his shoulders.”
“I mean…” He trailed off. Sure, he found him cute, but then again Stan and Kyle and anyone else in that room were also cute in their own ways…so why didn’t he think that toward them?
Why was Clyde any different? Sure, he knew he was attracted to guys, but never this far.
“You mean…?” Kyle prompted, and Thomas sighed heavily into his hands.
“I mean…I guess he’s kinda cute, yeah. Is that what you—bitch!—is that what you wanted out of me?” He snapped, immediately regretting it. He was new, he couldn’t get pissy with people. But Kyle simply laughed, wiping a fake tear from his eye dramatically.
“Just asking, man! But hey, if you want us to drop it, we’ll drop it.” He shrugged. “Although, if you wanted to hang out with him, get in close with his friend group. Your locker is by Clyde’s and Tolkien’s…” Snapping his fingers, he grinned, eyes sparkling as if he’d just come up with an idea. “Oh! I’m actually pretty decent friends with Tolkien, and so is Stan!”
Stan nodded at that. “Yeah, Tolkien hangs around my place whenever his gang isn’t hanging out. So if anyone is your way into that group, it’s him.”
Almost willing the embarrassed flush to fall from his face, he scowled, fighting off the grin that was trying to force its way onto his lips. “Weren’t you guys gonna drop this?”
“Alright, alright,” Stan raised his hands. “We’re men of our word, we’ll drop it.”
As quickly as he’d said it, the bell rang loudly. Everyone around them began getting up and racing for the door, and Thomas, Stan, and Kyle waited for everyone to leave the room before they stood up to leave.
“I swear, our classmates are like animals,” Kyle sighed, rubbing his face. Glancing down at Thomas, he smiled. “Can you make it back to your locker alright, and then we’ll meet you there? We gotta swing by our lockers first.”
“Sure, I’ll—awe shit!—” He groaned, smacking his cheek. “ Yes, I can do that. Do we have the same class?”
“Yup,” Stan chimed in as he held the door open for them to leave, and Thomas was startled by their height difference. If he himself was shorter than Kyle by two inches, the differences between Kyle and Stan must’ve been at least five inches.
Parting ways at the door, Thomas made his way back to his locker, trying to remember where his locker was. If only Kyle had told him what Tolkien looked like, he could’ve followed him. Luckily, the swarm of people around him practically dropped him right off by his locker, and he opened it quickly, sticking his head inside for a moment of solace.
“Shit–” He blurted as he glanced down at his schedule. What did he have next? His eyes roamed the paper until he felt a soft tap on his back. He blinked and turned around to see a boy around his height, with even dark skin and bouncy, puffed-up dreadlocks. He gave him a quick, unsure smile, full lips curving up into a grin.
“Hey, are you good?” He asked, cocking his head to the side ever-so-slightly. “You kinda seemed overwhelmed, ‘cause… y’know, your head was in the locker.”
“I’m…fine,” Thomas muttered, running a hand down his face. “There are a lot of kids here.”
The boy waited patiently afterward, waiting for a few loud tics from the boy to stop before politely nodding. “Yeah, there are. I think you were in my last class, up near the front with Stan and Kyle?"
He nodded, fumbling with his books. His next class was Algebra 2, which was about a year ahead of the curve. Since Stan and Kyle were in it too, at least he wouldn’t be alone in that class. As he finally got his books in order, he extended a hand to the boy almost absent-mindedly.
“I’m Thomas.”
The boy grinned, shaking his hand. “I’m Tolkien.”
Oh, so this was Tolkien.
It seemed fitting, the name sounded very…proper? In some sort of way, at least. It was an older name, maybe of an author? He couldn’t really remember. And anyway, Tolkien himself seemed very proper as well…or at least mature.
Wait…so if this was Tolkien…
“Toke!” A voice called, and Thomas’ breath hitched in his throat as he locked eyes on the person the voice had come from.
Clyde nearly ran into Tolkien, swinging an arm around his shoulders easily with a lopsided grin that made Thomas’ heart skip a beat. There was a small scar on his lip, probably from some tumble in childhood, and it took everything in Thomas to look away and gather up the rest of his things.
“Hey man, are we still hanging out this weekend?” Clyde was grinning widely, and Tolkien patted his hand.
“Should be, yeah.” As Tolkien looked back to Thomas, Clyde followed his line of sight and blinked.
“Oh- shit I’m sorry!” He rambled, eyes going wide. “Did I interrupt your conversation? I didn’t mean to! I-”
“No–” Thomas rushed to say, “No you- you’re fine!” He didn’t wait to look at his reaction, instead glancing around anxiously. His eyes caught on the bright, vibrant color of Kyle’s hair and his chest sagged with relief. “I actually have to go anyway, um… I’ll see you later!”
Quickly slamming his locker door shut, he made his way over to Kyle and Stan, leaving behind a very confused Clyde, and a slightly amused Tolkien.
Catching up to them, he groaned, dropping his cheek onto Kyle’s shoulder.
Kyle laughed, looking at him in amusement. “Did Tolkien corner you at your lockers? Or maybe-”
“ Shut up,” He muttered, words muffled, and Kyle laughed again, shaking his head. “Alright then. To math we go,” He raised his fist in a mock cheer, although his face looked strained.
“To math we go,” Stan and Thomas echoed.
Throughout the rest of the day, Thomas followed Kyle to the majority of his classes, with the exception of his one extra-curricular, Advanced Guitar. Luckily, he actually had that class with Stan, so he didn’t get lost on the way. The school, while it seemed big, actually wasn’t that bad. Half of his classes were on the first floor, and the second half of the day’s classes were on the top. He knew his way around by the end of the day, and knew most of the teacher’s names.
Mrs. Ellen seemed like the kindest and easiest to get along with, and then Ms. Garrison. Although, she was kind of loud, and didn’t seem to like Clyde all that much given how she’d glared at him.
It was kind of adorable the way he’d blinked back at her, brows furrowed as if he truly had no clue why she didn’t like him. Kyle had leaned over from his seat to mutter something about a question in the third grade, and he decided to leave it at that.
He’d gotten a few people’s numbers at lunch, mainly from Kyle.
He scrolled through his contacts now, alone in his room since his mom was at work, mentally going through the names and pulling their faces to mind.
Kyle, Stan, Kenny, Asshole… It was a shame he’d only gotten those four so far, he didn't even want Eric in his phone. Kyle had said once he was more assimilated to the class, he’d send him the rest of their numbers, but he had gotten a list of their social media.
Opening Instagram, he scrolled through Kyle’s following, clicking follow toward most of their classmates. Against his better judgment, he followed Cartman too, noticing his most recent posts were not of him, but another darker-haired boy. Probably a friend, maybe the one he’d been ditching Kyle and Stan and Kenny to hang with.
As he continued to scroll, he paused, eyes widening at a post. Posted by someone named… tweekstagram ? It was of a big group of friends, he recognized Tolkien and Craig out of the bunch. They were halfway submerged in a backyard hot tub, faces lit up in mirth.
Another boy, someone Thomas hadn’t had the chance to meet yet, was lowering himself into the water. He noticed his legs seemed…almost broken, but none of the boys in the group seemed bothered by it. A face in the bottom portion of the frame was likely the boy who ran the account.
They looked a bit similar, what with their wild, blonde hair and wide eyes, but his hair was darker than the mystery boy’s, and the boy didn’t have nearly as many freckles as he did. His scrunched-up eyes were a nice, bright blue, while Thomas’ were an almost yellowish-green.
But the real reason the photo had caught his eye was the boy sitting in the middle of it. Emerging from the water below, his eyes were wide and excited. Hair plastered to his face in little wisps, water dripping from him, as Thomas looked at the photo, he realized that Clyde seemed to be lunging for the boy with the camera, mid-laugh.
Thomas grinned, the smile coming easily despite him not doing so often, and he liked the photo, eyes drifting across it once more. His eyes darted over Clyde, from his face to his chest to where he came fumbling from the water, cheeks dusted with pink. He was right, Clyde was a bit chubbier than the rest of the group, something so unfairly cute he had to shake his head to return to the present.
In all honesty, the photo was downright hilarious. Aside from Clyde’s expression of mischief, the rest of the group seemed terrified, darting for the sides of the tub. Tolkien was staring with wide eyes, mouth twisted into a grin and his brows furrowed, meanwhile, Craig had clamped a hand over his mouth, twisting away with tears in his eyes, probably from laughter.
The boy in the back was grinning, braces on full display. It was a bit hard to tell where he was looking, given his lazy eye, but he probably assumed the boy’s eyes were either on Clyde or the camera boy, his eyes scrunched up in the same amusement the camera boy had.
He clicked on the description of the photo, completely skipping over the words until he hit the tags.
@ Tolkien_Black, @CraigtheAstr0naut, @JimmyVal, and…
@Clyd3_Donovan
He paused before clicking on his user, bringing up his page. He didn’t post a lot, but he did have a few that made him quietly laugh. Him with Craig on the roof of a building, Clyde almost dangling off while Craig was laughing in the background, another photo of him and presumably his dad, surrounded by shoeboxes.
His favorite though, was the most recent photo, a silly photo taken at an absurdly high angle so the people in the background could be seen. Clyde was grinning ear-to-ear, and he recognized some of the faces in the crowd as they looked absolutely exhausted.
He shook his head fondly before pressing follow and shutting his phone off. Flopping down onto his bed, he grinned to himself in the solace of his room, his mouth spreading widely with pure joy.
Today was good. Tomorrow will be even better.