Chapter Text
Ben is eleven when they first meet. Chris is twelve years, four months, one week, and three days. At least, that's what he tells Ben when they first meet in the office. It's Ben's first day at a new school and the guidance counselor handed him off to Chris as soon as she possibly could.
"He's our aide here at the office," she says, her white smile gleaming unnaturally. "He likes to show new students around, don't you, Chris?"
Chris, rocking back and forth, nods his head so enthusiastically that Ben finds himself thinking of a bobble head doll. "It is literally one of my favorite things to do here at Jefferson Middle School!"
He's perpetual motion and frankly, Ben is exhausted just looking at him. But he's grateful too. Chris is a little older than he is, but they're both young for middle school students. There's safety in numbers. Ben likes numbers. He likes math. It's always the same. Reliable. Familiar. At his old school, his peers labeled him as a "freak" and a "geek" and the odds are that things won't be very different here. But maybe. . . just maybe. . . he could have a friend.
"Ready, Ben Wyatt?"
Ben blinks at Chris' sudden closeness. He shifts half a foot backwards, a nervous smile on his face. "Okay, Chris Traeger."
Chris actually claps his hands together and laughs in delight. "Then let's get to it! You're going to love it here, of that I am 100% positive!" He seems to pause for a brief instance, countenance sobering a little as he lowers his voice, sounding quite serious. "I'll have you know that I am right nearly all the time. Rest assured, Ben Wyatt!"
"Er," Ben glances at the counselor, but she just shrugs. Great. He tries to ignore the obvious poor judgement on the part of the school in hiring such an apathetic person to counsel confused youths. Chris, though fairly intimidating with his energy and air that just breathes positivity, seems harmless. "Thanks."
"You're welcome!" Chris surprises Ben by taking a hold of his arm. He uses his free arm to make a sweeping gesture as they step outside of the office. "This, as you might have guessed, is the hallway!"
Ben stifles a snort of laughter. "It's nice," he says appreciatively. And it sort of is. Brightly lit and wide, the lockers neatly lined up against the wall opposite them. The clock over the office doorway is perfectly centered. "It looks well put together."
"Oh it is!" Chris leads him down the hallway, talking as they go. "The placement of doorways and lockers allow for minimum crowding of the hallways and the lockers themselves are fairly easy to keep clean!"
"Clean?" Ben repeats, a little confused. "Do they get dirty?"
Chris stops so fast that Ben treads on his heels. "Ben!" He exclaims, sounding appalled and concerned all at the same time. He whirls around and whips a tiny bottle of hand sanitizer out of his back pocket. "Why, didn't you know that lockers can quickly become infested with all sorts of germs? Think of how many people are accidentally brushing up against them or even purposefully touching them! They are literally a breeding ground for all sorts of diseases." He shudders a little and squirts some of the liquid in his hands, rubbing his palms together vigorously. "I get bothered just by thinking about it!"
"You know I was born with a rare blood disorder," Chris says conversationally. "The doctors didn't expect me to live. Yet, here I am. Twelve years, four months, one week, and three days later. That's because as soon as I became of the miracle that I am, I have set out to take care of my body as much as I possibly can. Eating right and exercising daily are only part of maintaining my near perfect health. Maintaining hygiene is crucial and this includes protecting myself from the germs that threaten me every waking moment. My body is a microchip and a single grain of sand could utterly destroy it. Hand sanitizer?"
Ben is still trying to wrap his mind around Chris' unexpected rant that he doesn't answer at first. Only when he feels a cool substance touch his hand does he find his voice. "Oh. Um, thanks."
Chris gives him a huge smile. "You're very welcome, Ben. Ben Wyatt." Apparently satisfied with their cleanliness, he snaps he bottle shut. "However, I do apologize. I've spent much of our tour talking about myself. Please. Tell me something about you."
Their tour has consisted of three steps outside of the office, but Ben refrains from pointing this out. It's too bad there's not much to talk about when it comes to him. "Well. I just moved here from Michigan with my mom. She and my dad are recently divorced and-"
"Oh, Ben." Chris frowns. "I'm so sorry. My parents divorced when I was six."
"So you much know how it feels." Ben smiles wryly. Actually, he's pretty sure that he's taking the divorce better than most kids his age. A part of him is actually relieved. At least they won't fight anymore. It'll be more peaceful.
"I do know how it feels," Chris tells him. "And may I say that it will get better, Ben. The best thing to do is keep moving forward. Don't let the past define you. That never works. For instance, if I let my rare blood disorder as a baby define me, I would not be right here with you today!"
Ben feels his smile slip a bit. If he were to be perfectly honest, Chris' self-absorbed optimism is quickly beginning to irk him. Even when they're talking about Ben, they're really talking about Chris. "Right."
Chris, big surprise, doesn't seem to pick up on Ben's drop in enthusiasm. "Anyway, my class starts soon so let me show you to yours!"
So much for the tour. Ben rolls his eyes as he hands his schedule over to Chris. Not that it really matters. This school may be nice than the one he went to back in Michigan, but it's still a middle school. Small. This time next week, he'll be able to find his way around it blindfolded. Not that he would have to. That would be ridiculous.
"Ah!" Chris shouts, startling Ben. "Look at that! "Survey of Mathematics! That's my next class! We're classmates! Clapping a hand on Ben's shoulder, he stares unabashedly into the other boy's eyes. "This is literally the greatest news I've heard today! I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, Ben Wyatt."
To each his own. Uncomfortable, Ben drops his gaze and shuffles away so that Chris' hand slides off his shoulder. As far as first (and maybe only) friends go, he could do worse than Chris Traeger. Right?
Their footsteps echoing in the empty hallway are drowned out by the bell ringing. Doors open, slamming into the walls, and a sea of students suddenly pour out into the hall with Ben and Chris. No one even bothers to look at them, so focused on their own intentions of getting to the next class on time. Or, maybe they're all just too busy talking to one another rather than him.
As Chris takes off, with the spirit of a great adventurer rather than a middle schooler, Ben trails behind him and silently weighs his options. They're pretty straightforward. No friends or one suffocating friend.
Chris is everything that Ben isn't. Optimistic where Ben is realistic. Sociable where Ben is shy. Confident where Ben is awkward. Talkative where Ben is quiet. It could be annoying or it could be easy. It's not like Ben would have to do any work. Chris could do all the talking. All the cheerleading. He's weird even by Ben standards. Ben might even pass for normal next to him. And there's still the indisputable fact that no matter how different they might be, there's still safety in numbers.
Ben likes those odds.