Work Text:
Nate Adams was known to be average. The word haunted his childhood, always sitting on the edge of his mind as he strived to excel, strived to be better, strived to be great. But no matter what he did and no matter how hard he tried, he was always a dead average. Average in math, average in sciences, average in socials and gym and every class in between. Multiple teachers, old and new, had told him that his scores were the most deadpoint average they’d ever seen; matching the grading structure almost exactly. They kept trying to reassure him that average was a good thing; but no matter how hard he tried, Nate could never see it that way.
Average meant he had to try harder. Average meant that he wasn’t special. Average meant that he was doing something wrong. Average meant that he had to fix himself. Average meant that he had to throw his heart into everything that came along for the chance to get one singular ‘ excelling. ’
The addition of the Yo-Kai Watch didn’t make anything easier; in fact, it might have made it worse. Suddenly he was special, suddenly he was cool, suddenly he could do things that no one else could; but no one would ever know. As far as they were concerned, he was still average Nate, with no fun stories to tell or breakthroughs to mention. Everything unique about him came from a watch.
His self-esteem had been at an all time low; yes, it had gotten better throughout his quests and his life, but it had fallen to the pits of the infinite inferno now that all of that was over. There was no more adventure waiting, no more evil Yo-Kai to dethrone. There was no ghostly spider waiting in the bathroom, nor was there a cyclops at the top of a construction site. For once, the world was unusually quiet, and for the millionth time, Nate Adams was average.
Or, at least, the world was unusually quiet until Buck Hazeltine barged into his life with a bright smile and the devotion of a kitten with the zoomies. Nate knew that the world wouldn’t be silent for a while yet; not while Buck was still dragging him towards zombies and treehouses by the wrist. It seemed that wherever there was trouble, there was also Buck; who was undoubtedly going to run into it head first knowing full well that there would be consequences. Nate never thought that he was worth anything more than a C; but there was Buck, who had knocked on every single door in the neighbourhood looking for him. He never thought anybody would pick him over anyone else; and then there was Buck, who actively sought him out every time there was an adventure to go on.
Nate was average in the eyes of everyone. Nate was average to his parents, classmates, teachers, and even to strangers on the street. He was of average height, with brown hair and brown eyes, typical clothing and even more typical grades. He was the epitome of nothing special, the peak of okay. He was the kid that came attached to the watch and nothing more. He was average in the eyes of everyone. Well, everyone but Buck. It didn’t seem to matter what Nate said or did, and it didn’t seem to matter which Yo-Kai he befriended and summoned. Buck had become a constant; he was always there, he was always smiling, dishing out fleeting compliments like Nate was used to hearing them. Here he was, telling Nate he was amazing, showing him the stars, sharing secret after secret after secret because Nate was a friend that went above and beyond the average.
At first, Nate found it hard to believe that Buck was being genuine. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with the guy that can also see Yo-Kai – or, as Buck would call them, aliens? The words that flew out of Buck’s mouth were swift and hardly ever dwelled over, which further confirmed Nate’s theory; that his friend was only friends with him because he could befriend ‘ aliens. ’ But as the days flew by and Buck continued to seek him out, continued to smile at him like he’d lit the sun, continued to call him amazing and awesome and brave-
It had really started to feel like Buck liked him for him. Like he would still be chasing after him, even if he’d never picked up the watch.
Eventually, he’d known Buck for a full year; and could confidently say that he was his best friend. They’d watched the stars together from the top of their treehouse, telling stories back and forth and wishing on the stars that had the courage to fall. They’d draw shapes in the sky, drifting down a home-made raft that they’d tied together with semi-frayed rope. (It still amazed Nate how Buck was able to make almost anything out of the barest of materials; Buck was going to do great things one day, and those great things probably involved rocket ships and UFOs.) They warped to Springdale using the Mirapo Network, Nate taking the lead and showing Buck around his home; and regardless of the similarities between it and BBQ, Buck was still delighted to see every little nook and cranny.
The first time Nate ever considered their friendship to be anything more than, well, friends, was the first time Buck ever visited Springdale. He’d been showing him around, taking him to all the best spots and introducing him to all his friends; and there, he’d been hit with a thought that had briefly caused him to reevaluate their bond. Buck had just tripped and fallen into a pile of leaves at the side of the road; they were heading towards the train station to pay a visit to Harrisville. The leaves hadn’t browned yet, nor had they wilted; instead, they stuck up like little golden flowers in Buck’s ginger hair. Nate had laughed, a deep and hearty one, a noise that was rarely heard outside of Buck’s presence. He’d pointed and chuckled until Buck had gotten back on his feet, leaves still in his hair, and, quite loudly, started to defend himself in a series of embarrassed rambles.
Springdale looks amazing on you,
Nate had thought warmly. And then he’d paused and considered what he’d just thought of. Springdale was home; it had always been home, and it always would be home. BBQ was wonderful and exciting, but it would never have the same feel that Springdale did; Nate chalked it up to nostalgia. So to think ‘
Springdale looks amazing on you,
’ was effectively the same as thinking ‘
Home looks amazing on you.
’ If you spun that around and added a dash of embarrassing fluttery feelings, what came out sounded more like ‘
This is home and so are you.
’ And thus began the three day segment that, in Nate’s journal, he’d titled the
‘Am I in love with Buck?
’ pages; which was, mortifyingly enough, longer than the segment about the Bada-Bing Tower.
In the end, he’d come to three conclusions: A, that he was definitely in love with Buck, B, that Buck was in love with him, and C, that Buck probably didn’t know he was in love with Nate. Though that sounded problematic for the future of their potentially romantic relationship, it actually wasn’t that much of a hindrance; it just meant that Nate got to be fully aware of it and had to wait for Buck to stumble his way through realizing it. Nothing in their dynamic would change that much, and Nate had accepted his crush on the ginger surprisingly quickly; this, fortunately, skipped through the majority of the ‘ what if I say the wrong thing and he hates me forever?? ’ phase.
Buck, contrary to popular belief, wasn’t stupid. If Nate was average, Buck was excellency; he showed interest in all the right subjects and always had to grades to back up his future dreams – of which there were many. The only reason why other people hadn’t figured out that Buck was half a step away from being considered a genius was the fact that he didn’t always think first; most of the time he did actions before words and thought, which resulted in a lot of unwanted situations. Still, his impulse decisions were leagues ahead of the impulse decisions of others; he would often pick a path that was wildly outside the box, and most of the time it turned out well.
If you asked him to, Buck would have no problem solving and calculating mathematical equations or scientific concepts; once he put his mind to something, there was almost nothing he couldn’t do. But that was only if you asked him to; most of the time his fixations on the paranormal came before his logical mind, which resulted in a lot of conspiracy theory backed by half-thought out science. Nate had only seen him use his immensely gifted mind a few times in their adventures; and each time that part of Buck had come out subtly, such as the design of a raft or the repair of the treehouse. He hadn’t needed to look up a tutorial or to go through any kind of trial and error; he’d just grabbed materials and started building on impulse, telling Nate where to put what and which knots were best for which jobs.
Buck definitely wasn’t stupid academically; he was top of his class even without studying, and could probably do anything he put his mind to. Buck also wasn’t stupid emotionally; he often knew exactly what to say or what to do to drag Nate out of the depths of his mind and get him to smile. He would bring Nate little gifts he’d made; pieces of scrap modified and turned into something useful, a copy of Fancy That, or a bite to eat and an invite to watch the stars. He would get Nate to feel lighter and lighter by offering genuine compliments and little acts of service to let Nate know that he was worth the effort. So no, Buck wasn’t stupid academically or emotionally; but he was incredibly dumb when it came to love.
Nate was pretty sure that at least half of Buck knew. Half of Buck
had
to know that he liked Nate just as much as Nate liked him. He was pretty sure that half of Buck was aware of
why
he stared at the brunette when he thought Nate wasn’t looking. He was also pretty sure that Buck wasn’t opposed to loving him; the ginger would welcome it with open arms, had he ever noticed it. Nate knew because that’s how Buck approached most of anything; he tended to accept things easily with his wide smile and a sparkle in his eyes. So the love between them wasn’t a problem, and it never would be.
The conclusion to what felt like the longest year of Nate’s life came when they were watching the stars. They were sitting on the top of the treehouse, tracing lines in the sky and keeping an eye out for the ones that shot across the sky like lasers. It was a cold night, sometimes in autumn, so Nate had brought up a big blanket for them; they were sharing it, shoulder to shoulder, as they leaned back and counted the craters on the moon.
“The stars ain't so impressive,” Buck said with a soft smile, “now that we’ve been to space an’ all.” Nate shifted slightly, taking in another breath of the night breeze.
“I don’t know,” he replied, “I kinda like being down here instead of up there. Everything seems so small from there.” He hadn’t meant to imply anything. He really hadn’t, but it just slipped out, and Buck had managed to catch it.
“Nate,” Buck began, his voice quieting to give him some semblance of privacy as if there was anybody out in the forest this late at night. “Just ‘cause you can’t see yourself from up there doesn’t mean you ain’t still there,” he assured. Nate got the sense that he wasn’t just talking about space.
Nate had always been insignificant. He was a single student in a school of hundreds, he was the report card full of Cs, he was the brown hair and mouse brown eyes that you saw in the street every single day. He was only exceptional in one aspect, and that one aspect was given to him on a silver platter in the form of a watch. There was nothing special about Nate Adams, and he lived life unseen, unheard, and unknown. He was nothing but a speck on the surface of the Earth, and every reminder of that caused an old unhealed wound to ache. Down here, at least he could be seen. Down here, at least he could see others. At least he could try to make a difference. There was no difference to make from space.
Buck was going to be a rocket scientist. Buck was going to be an engineer. Buck was going to be a famous explorer. Buck was going to be a great many things. He was going to be whatever he wanted because Buck was so good and he was so smart. He was going to be in space one day as his job. Buck was exceptional, and Nate was nothing. And yet, somehow, Buck had always been looking at him through a telescope. No matter how small, no matter how minuscule, insignificant, worthless, average Nate was, Buck could always find him. Buck could always see him. Buck could always tell him how amazing he was, acknowledge how hard he was trying, offer his help for anything Nate could ever want. Buck was the one thing that Nate needed to figure out that he was worth it.
And so, in that moment, the fourth second after Buck had said his piece, Nate took his hand. Nate took his hand, and it felt like Springdale. It felt like home. Nate took his hand and it felt like warmth. It felt like love. Nate took his hand, and it felt like being found. It felt like being exceptional. Nate took his hand, and Nate finally believed that he was worth something. He took his hand, and it opened a boundless universe of possibilities.
They fell asleep, hand in hand, curled up underneath the blanket on a cold autumn night.
They awoke early in the morning to the crack of thunder and cold heavy rain.
They laughed and scrambled down the ladder, taking shelter in their treehouse.
They never let go of each other.
The End.