Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chemistry.

Griffin was good in chemistry. The best even if he said so himself, at least better than these idiots in his class.

What he wasn’t good at was working with people.

God, he hated working with other people. Not only didn’t they understand half of the assignment they were supposed to be doing and mess it all up, they also didn’t do a single thing which made Griffin do all the work.

And really, Griffin thought he was on a roll here, no working with people, the other boys had left him mostly alone this week and his mom hasn’t been home for a few days to yell at him. All in all, it had been a good few days for him, Griffin should have expected that the universe is always out to get him.

Griffin knew it was going to be that kind of day when he saw his chemistry teacher, Mrs. Heart, pull out the hat with their names in it to make pairs out of her desk drawer. That damned hat. Griffin knew he should have burned that thing a long time ago, all it did was bring him misery.

Quickly making his way to the workbench all the way at the back of the classroom and closest to the window, he let his bag fall down at his feet before taking a seat. He took a look around the classroom, taking in all the other kids.

He saw Donna walk into the classroom, busy talking with one of her friends. Griffin liked Donna, he would almost go as far as to call her a friend. She always sits next to him in this class and on the rare occasions that the universe was on his side, he got to work with Donna. She was smart and could keep up with Griffin.

She was also the only person who knew about his hatred for Billy. Whenever she lets him rant about the other boy, she gets this knowing look on her face. Griffin hasn’t figured out yet what that look means.

His eyes drifted away from her to instead look at Robin Arellano. Griffin didn’t know much about him, only that he’s Finney’s boyfriend, a fighter and that he’s friends with Bruce Yamada, Vance Hopper and Billy Showalter.

Griffin’s lips immediately curled up in distaste.

Right. Billy Showalter.

Golden boy, second to Bruce Yamada of course, star soccer player and paperboy of this godforsaken town.

You know those people you just don’t like, the people who probably did nothing or everything at all you hate for no reason?

Billy Showalter is one of those people. He didn’t even do anything specific. Griffin just didn’t like him. Maybe because he was popular. Maybe because he was seen . Maybe because he was just like the other popular kids, shallow and mean. Or maybe it just all fell back to that neon orange jacket Billy had worn in middle school.

That sounds about right to Griffin, his hatred had started years ago so why not blame it all on the jacket. It had hurt his eyes just by looking at it, anyway.

And just to let you know, his hatred has nothing to do with the fluttery feeling in his stomach whenever he sees the other boy. No, no of course not, no ma’am.

Griffin was brought back out of his thoughts by Donna’s words when she plopped down into the seat next to him. “Griffin, fix your face.”

Griffin immediately scowled at her but the girl didn’t let it deter her as she went right back to talking while getting her stuff out of her bag.

“Did you see how Robin looked at me? Lovesick idiot has his boy already but still thinks I’m going to steal him away,” Donna rolled her eyes in exasperation.

Griffin’s lips quirked up in a small, amused smile at that. Donna and Griffin have listened to Finney rant about his massive crush on Arellano for weeks on end and now that Arellano finally made a move, Griffin thought it woud be over. He thought wrong.

He’s incredibly happy for Finney, of course, but now instead of hearing about how ‘Robin is so fucking pretty’ and ‘Do you think the look he gave me meant anything?’ it has been replaced with how Robin ‘gave me my favorite flowers’ and ‘he lent me his jacket last night when I was cold, it was so romantic!’.

It’s nauseating in Griffin’s opinion.

And not to mention the thing with Donna and Robin’s beef, yeah, Griffin doesn’t know about that either. Just that there’s some history there or something. Whatever, Griffin doesn’t want to know and doesn’t care to either.

But it’s always funny to watch because Donna has no intention of stealing Finney away because one, Finney is a boy and two, Donna’s actually been aiming for Finney’s sister, Gwen. Donna had told him one late, fall afternoon when they were walking home from school. He still remembers her face when she told him, a cool look on her face but Griffin could see the fear for his reaction right through her carefully crafted mask.

He still remembers how he soothed her expression away when he offered her his own secret.

So yeah, Donna is his friend. A very good friend.

His attention was pulled back to Mrs. Heart when she greeted them all before she began to explain a new assignment. Griffin let his eyes drift towards the window. He only looked back when Donna elbowed him in the ribs to get him to look at their teacher.

The first sign that Griffin should have noticed that it was going to be that kind of day was when Mrs. Heart called out Donna’s name that was followed by Arellano’s. The second one was when she called Billy’s name followed up by his own name.

He groaned silently and let his head fall on his folded arms on the table, Donna patting his shoulder a second later, Griffin could hear her laughing softly.

And then she was gone, Griffin could hear her call some remark at Arellano, the other boy responding in kind.

“Don’t be a stranger, Arellano!”

“Fuck off, Clarke!”

Griffin wondered how that would go down.

He felt someone take Donna’s place next to him and then an all too familiar voice sounded next to him.

“Uhm, hi? I’m Billy Sho-“

“I know who you are, Showalter,” Griffin interrupted. Griffin lifted his head to fix Showalter with an irritated look. The boy didn’t look too bothered to be paired up with him. He probably thought that Griffin was going to do all the work.

Okay, Griffin had already prepared himself to do all the work but that’s beside the point. He’s at the top of his class and he’s not about to throw that away because of some popular kid who throws newspapers at people every morning.

“Here’s how this is going to work, yeah? You stay put, don’t touch anything and don’t talk to me, got it?”

Griffin didn’t wait for an answer before he promptly walked away to get their stuff. He didn’t need much, the stuff that they needed was already laid out on their table but they needed lab coats and safety glasses.

When Griffin returned, his own lab coat on and the other one on his arm, he walked back to their workbench while putting on his safety glasses. As he approached their workbench, he watched Showalter put some chemicals together.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Griffin rushed forwards as he shoved the jacket towards Showalter, the boy making a surprised noise when the jacket made contact with his face.

Griffin gripped the vial that was just in the other boy’s hand and inspected it. Nothing major happened, nothing exploded or something. Yet.

Griffin narrowed his eyes at it before he pushed his safety glasses onto his head. He turned his gaze towards Showalter after he gently set down the vial.

“Which chemicals did you put in here?” Griffin asked sharply.

The other boy just smiled widely at him as he shrugged on his own lab coat. “The right ones.”

Griffin scoffed and he took a look at the paper where the assignment was written. ‘The idiot was right,’ Griffin thought.

Griffin looked at the other boy again. He noticed how the coat was too short for the boy, the sleeves not even reaching his wrists while Griffin’s almost reached to his fingertips. The school really couldn’t be bothered to buy better safety equipment for them.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Showalter’s voice brought him back out of his thoughts and Griffin watched as he put his safety glasses on his face.

“Wow,” Griffin deadpanned. “You can read instructions, so what? Do you want a sticker?” With that he turned away from the other boy to read the assignment.

To his utter surprise, Showalter laughed. He fucking laughed as if it was a joke and not like Griffin hadn’t just insulted his intelligence.

Griffin watched blankly as the other boy regained his bearings. “Are you done?” Griffin asked.

“Yeah, I’m done,” Showalter just grinned stupidly before he settled down in his seat, his chin in his hand as he watched Griffin with those green eyes that seemed to analyse him. 

Griffin narrowed his eyes, a frown on his face before he looked away to look at the assignment.

They worked in silence after that. Well, Griffin worked while Showalter did nothing besides watching him, Griffin had told him to, after all. Griffin could feel the other boy’s eyes following his movements, could feel his eyes burning into his head but he wouldn’t let it bother him. 

Griffin was looking at a chemical in his hands with a frown on his face, his eyes studying the vial. He wasn’t sure if this was the right one to use and so he looked at the assignment again before he looked at the other vials that were laid out on the table, letting his eyes wander over them.

“It’s that one,” a voice said and Griffin was pulled out of his thoughts.

Griffin looked up, “What?” He said sharply to the other boy.

Showalter just smiled knowingly and pointed at one of the vials with chemicals. “That’s the one you’ll need.”

Griffin blinked at the vial the other boy was pointing at, then at the one in his hand and lastly at the assignment.

Griffin avoided looking at the other boy as he reached for the correct vial. “I knew that,” he mumbled.

“Of course,” Showalter agreed easily. Griffin could hear the smile in his voice and he shot a glare at the other boy.

“I don’t need your help, Showalter,” Griffin countered as he busied himself with pouring the right amount of the chemical in the beaker in front of him.

“Billy,” Showalter said. Griffin stopped what he was doing to instead look at the other boy in confusion and a hint of irritation.

“What?” Griffin questioned.

Showalter just smiled, quite annoyingly so in Griffin’s opinion. “Call me Billy,” the boy requested softly.

Griffin regarded him for a moment, just studying him. From his kind smile to his sincere, green eyes. Griffin tilted his head a little to the side, the first thing he noticed was that Billy didn’t seem to mind very much that Griffin was watching him by the way his smile broadened, just happy with having the shorter boy’s eyes on him. The second thing was that Billy seemed to watch him in return, Griffin couldn’t understand why because the other boy has been watching him for the past twenty minutes so he’d think that he’s seen it all. ‘Guess not,’ Griffin thought as he watched Showalter’s eyes roam over his face.

The boy had green eyes. Green eyes with the tiniest hint of light brown and gold tinging his eyes. Practically unnoticeable, not if you looked very closely.

Griffin looked away from the boy, not saying a word. In fact, he didn’t speak again for the rest of the lesson, neither did Showalter, although Griffin could still feel his eyes on him, content with just watching him.

When Mrs. Heart told them all to finish up, Griffin began to tidy up their workspace, putting vials back in their place and writing the last words on their worksheet to show their progress.

Griffin removed his safety glasses and shrugged his lab coat off before he slung it over his arm. He caught sight of Showalter, still in his too short lab coat and safety glasses perched on his head, talking to Arellano, Donna’s and his workspace already cleared up. 

Griffin immediately scowled at the sight and he trudged over to practically tear the safety glasses of Showalter’s head, effectively interrupting him and making him turn towards him.

Griffin tugged harshly at the sleeve of Showalter’s coat. “Off,” he demanded impatiently.

He ignored Donna laughing quietly behind her hand and Arellano’s amused smirking when Showalter immediately stood up to shrug off his own coat.

“I can do it too, you know,” Showalter said as he tried to reach for Griffin’s coat and glasses to clean it up.

“Clearly not,” Griffin returned as he leaned out of reach from Showalter to instead slide past him and snatch the coat and glasses out of the boy’s unsuspecting hands. “Since you’re over here talking and not giving Mrs. Heart our worksheet.”

“Oh, right,” Griffin heard Showalter say behind him, followed by Arellano’s cackle and Donna’s giggling that made Griffin roll his eyes.

It went on like this for another four weeks.

Griffin telling Showalter not to touch things, Showalter not listening to him, Griffin trying to work, Showalter staring holes into the side of Griffin’s head, Showalter trying to do things, Griffin shoving him away.

It was a shame that this was a project that took up half of their grade, otherwise Griffin would mess it up on purpose to get out of working with the other boy. It’s been a long four weeks honestly. More so even when the other boy kept trying to talk to him. Griffin ignored him every time, of course, but it frustrated him that Showalter didn’t take that as sign to stop talking.

Donna always shot him amused glances, her trademark smirk on her face. It made Griffin grit his teeth.

Also the fact that Arellano shot secret looks at Showalter, Arellano would smirk knowingly and Showalter would get red in the face and quickly look away.

Griffin would always look at him weirdly before scooting a bit away from him, thinking Showalter was coming down with something.

But eventually they’d found a rhythm. Although Griffin didn’t like the boy, he couldn’t deny that he was helpful during their project.

Showalter would say small comments that actually helped Griffin to apprehend it better. He’d make notes on the experiments Griffin did, noted the important parts and handed Griffin the things he needed before he even knew he needed it. Griffin could appreciatie it that Showalter let him take the lead in the project, as long as he didn’t do the whole thing.

So it was helpful to have him around sometimes. What isn’t helpful is the way Showalter tried to make conversation about anything that came to his mind.

Griffin would deflect or throw a sarcastic comment at the other boy but that only seemed to spur Showalter on as he would only grin and lean his chin on his hand before he would answer his own questions with his own answers.

In the four weeks they’d worked together, Griffin has learned more about Showalter than he has in the years since middle school.

Showalter liked the colour green, he liked to listen to music as he did his paper rounds in the early mornings, he liked his English class the most and liked to write in his free time.

One time Griffin had asked him a question back. “What do you write about?” He’d asked. It was said absentmindedly, it slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Showalter had shot him a smile as bright as the sun. “Anything and everything,” the boy had answered back.

Griffin had looked up at that, his eyes moving from the paper he was writing on to Showalter’s open face. “Anything and everything?”

Showalter’s smile shifted into something softer and Griffin tried not to think very hard about that. The boy had only hummed in response.

Griffin hadn’t pushed further and Showalter hadn’t told him.

Showalter liked to hang out with his friends, he liked to play football with Robin and liked to read in silence with Finney. He liked to climb into his old childhood treehouse that his father build for him in the backyard whenever he wanted a quiet moment. He liked to keep his curtains open at night to see the moon and the stars. He liked to go to the movies with his dad and he liked to help his mom with cooking dinner.

Griffin tried his hardest to not find it endearing even though the parts about Showalter’s parents made something in him ache painfully. 

It didn’t matter anyway. This wouldn’t matter because after this project Griffin could cut his losses with Showalter.

But yes, Griffin couldn’t deny that Showalter was an adequate person to work with.

But there were days where Showalter could be the most insufferable person on earth. Every class he would end it with a goodbye that made Griffin’s hackles rise and made his face twist into a scowl. Like now.

“I’ll see you later, pretty boy,” Showalter said with a teasing smile and Griffin’s jaw dropped in disbelief. ‘Oh the nerve of this guy,’ Griffin thought angrily as he watched Showalter turn around and head towards the door, Arellano right behind him, who immediately started whispering to his friend.

Griffin felt the urge to throw something at Showalter’s back and reached for the closest thing in his reach, which was Donna’s chemistry book. Griffin quickly drew his arm back to throw it but was stopped by a hand grabbing his arm.

Griffin turned his head to shot a glare at Donna, the girl ignored it in favor of laughing loudly. “You’ll damage it,” with that, the girl swiped the book out of his grip and replaced it with a balled up piece of paper.

“Knock yourself out,” Donna laughed.

Griffin knew she was making fun of him but he threw the paper anyway. It hit the doorway and bounced to the ground.

~ ~ ~

His day truly could not get any worse.

After serving detention, he’d had arrived late at school that morning, Griffin was found lazily skating through the empty hallways to the exit doors.

Griffin pushed open the doors and rolled out onto the street. He fished his wired earphones out of his pocket, frowning as they were all tangled and he tried to untangle it as he skated around the corner of the school building.

But just as he went around the corner, his skateboard halted with an unexpected jerk and Griffin felt himself fly forwards before he hit the concrete with a silent thud.

“Oh, fuck, shit! Griffin, are you okay?!” Showalter called frantically a second later.

Griffin just groaned in response as he turned over onto his back. He leaned back on his elbows and levelled the other boy with a pained glare.

“Get my board.”

“Gotcha.”

When Showalter returned with Griffin’s skateboard tucked under his arm, Griffin had sat up on the ground, inspecting the tear in his pants from where his knee had scraped the ground, red tinged the edges of it.

“Ah, fuck, did I do that? I’m-“ Showalter began.

“Don’t waste your breath,” Griffin interrupted snidely and he pushed himself off the ground, dusting his hands off to get rid of the dirt and the small rocks that clung to his palms. “What do you want, Showalter?”

The taller boy just sighed. “Would it kill you to just call me ‘Billy’ ?” He asked, handing over Griffin’s skateboard when the boy reached for it.

“It would,” Griffin nodded as he crouched in front of his backpack to strap his skateboard to the front of it.

When Griffin stood back up, his backpack secured on his shoulders, he was surprised to find an amused smile on Showalter’s lips.

“What?” Griffin sneered.

“Sorry, nothing,” Showalter laughed and he looked down at his shoes for a moment as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about something,” the boy looked up at him again.

Griffin narrowed his eyes in suspicion, one hand going up to grip one of the straps of his backpack. “About what?”

“Look,” Showalter began. “I feel like we started off on the wrong foot, so-“

Griffin scoffed, effectively interrupting the other boy. “You think?”

“So why don’t we start over,” Showalter continued as if Griffin hadn’t just interrupted him.

A look of confusion washed away the irritation on Griffin’s face. “Start over?” He repeated.

Showalter just smiled in that stupid way of his where his eyes crinkled and his dimples appeared. “Hi,” the boy started. “I’m Billy Showalter.” He held his hand out for Griffin to shake.

Griffin’s eyes bounced from the outstretched hand to Showalter’s face and back. Hesitantly, Griffin laid his hand in Showalter’s hand, the other boy gripped his hand gently and shook it.

“Griffin Stagg,” Griffin introduced himself, still unsure but despite himself, a small smile slipped onto his face at the absurdness of this moment.

“Nice to meet you, Griffin Stagg,” Billy grinned.

“Nice to meet you too, Billy Showalter.”

Chapter Text

Griffin really didn’t know how to feel about this.

It has been one month.

One fucking month after that damned chemistry assignment. Griffin wasn’t complaining about that though, the assignment was a success. The only thing was that the other boy would. Not. Leave. Him. Alone.

Griffin thought that even though they started over, they still would leave each other be. That was Griffin’s plan at least.

Billy didn’t seem to catch on to that though.

Griffin really had thought that Showalter would fuck off by now. Instead the boy kept sitting next to him in class, kept waving at him in the hallways, kept trying to drag him off to have lunch with his friends.

‘Trying’ being the keyword here, Griffin always escaped him at the very last moment, much to Showalter’s chagrin. Griffin isn’t great with meeting new people so he avoids it as much as possible, he’d very much liked to keep it that way.

Griffin had seen his friend group, he’s seen them, alright. He’s met them all at least once. Finney was his friend, so obviously they knew each other. He’d met the boy through Donna, both being her friend they were bound to meet at some point. The boy had made his way into Griffin’s heart faster than Donna had.

And with Finn, Robin wasn’t far behind, they were practically attached at the hip, even before they started dating. Griffin could appreciate him for making Finn happy.

He’d met Vance in passing, mostly at the corner store with Griffin grabbing something cold to press against his face when he’d eat concrete after falling from his skateboard and Vance playing at the pinball machine. Griffin always nodded at him in silent greeting and more often than not, Vance responded in kind. 

There was also this incident that happened but neither boy talked about it, a mutual decision to not ever talk about it was made by just glaring at each other.

With Bruce, Griffin had run into him a few times, at school, at the park, in the streets. Bruce had helped him tape his skateboard back together one time when the board slipped away from under Griffin’s feet and met its crushing fate under a passing car at just the wrong time.

The golden boy had come running out of his house with a roll of silver duct tape in his hand, having witnessed the unfortunate scene because Griffin had found himself directly in front of the other boy’s house. The duct tape’s still there. Griffin liked him.

And then there was Billy Showalter. Griffin’s seen him around town as well, throwing newspapers at people and making Arellano face plant in the park when they’re playing soccer. That always got a good laugh out of him when he skated lazily past the field on his way to the skatepark.

But then Billy got paired up with him in that stupid, stupid chemistry assignment. And just because they worked together one time and agreed they would start over on a clean slate, Billy seemed to think he could do whatever the hell he wanted.

And what Billy wanted was to drag Griffin with him to join him and his friends for lunch. Which for one, wasn’t going to happen and two, fuck him.

Unfortunately, Griffin didn’t know that Billy Showalter had other plans in mind.

Griffin should have known that Billy Showalter still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Griffin had just finished his last class before lunch and he was walking towards the exit to go outside to the bleachers when he was cornered by none other than Billy Showalter.

“Can I help you?” Griffin said sarcastically when all Billy did was stare for a few moments.

“Do you ever smile?” Billy asked curiously. Griffin thought he was joking but the question sounded genuine.

“Only at people I like,” Griffin answered.

“So smile at me,” Billy grinned.

“Billy,” Griffin sighed long sufferingly. “What do you want?”

“Come sit with us,” the boy said then.

“No.”

“Please,” Billy tried.

“Absolutely not,” Griffin declined immediately.

“I can just throw you over my shoulder and carry you over,” Billy said smugly and he leaned down tauntingly, bending at the waist to look Griffin in the eyes.

“You try that shit and I will break your fucking legs before I punch your lights out,” Griffin hissed back.

Billy stood back up, surprise colouring his face. After a moment, a slow smile stretched across his lips and he watched the way Griffin’s glaring eyes narrowed in on it.

“My, aren’t you a violent one,” Billy tilted his head to the side before he let his eyes drag over Griffin’s form. Griffin felt his cheeks heat up and he scowled heatedly.

“What?” he scoffed. “You want a demonstration?”

Billy just grinned widely at him, as if this was just a joke between them, just friends threatening each other, just everyday stuff.

“Why won’t you sit with me?” Billy asked after a second. “Bruce and Finney are also there and I know you like them!”

Griffin sighed exasperated. “I already told you why, Billy,” and he walked away from Billy to his locker.

“Oh come on, that wasn’t even a real excuse,” Billy exclaimed as he jogged a little to catch up with Griffin. “‘No, sorry, I’m allergic to new people,’” the taller boy said in a poor imitation of Griffin’s voice.

Griffin’s hands stilled on the lock of his locker and he shot a deadpan look at Billy. “Is that supposed to sound like me?”

“Yeah, I absolutely nailed that, right?” Billy answered proudly.

Griffin rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous. And also, my reason is totally valid. Now, get going, Showalter,” and he waved the other boy off with a hand.

“Seriously?” Billy deadpanned and Griffin had to bite the inside of his cheek to not let out a laugh. “We’re at the last name basis again?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Griffin turned back to his locker with a shrug before he opened the door.

“Fine,” Billy said with a deep sigh. “But I’m telling you, Griffin Stagg, that I will get you to sit with us someday,” Billy began to walk backwards in the direction of the cafeteria.

“We’ll see,” Griffin returned and he closed his locker after putting a few textbooks back inside.

“Yes, we will,” Billy nodded decisively.

~~~

“No luck, huh?” Bruce said as soon as Billy sat down next to Vance.

“When I said I could throw him over my shoulder and carry him here, he said he would break my legs before he’d punch my lights out,” Billy sighed disappointedly and he dropped his head onto his arm that lay on the table.

The group collectively winced except for Vance, who shot a wild grin at Billy. “I like him.”

~~~

Fuck.

“No, no,” Griffin pleaded when Billy grabbed his shoulders to pull him back. “No, Billy, seriously.”

“Yes, Griffin,” Billy practically singsonged. “It’s okay, they don’t bite. Usually. If they do, just bite back. I know you got teeth,” the boy pushed Griffin onto the bench.

Billy Showalter was truly the bane of Griffin’s existence. Why else would he torture Griffin with his antics? When Griffin said ‘we’ll see’ as an answer to Billy’s ‘I will get you to sit with us someday’, he didn’t actually think that they’d really see.

Griffin wasn’t even supposed to be here. He should have been outside, high on the bleachers looking out over the sport fields, far away from the other students, far away from the cafeteria and far away from Billy’s hands that kept trying to drag him away.

Instead, he had let his guard down and argued with Billy about something stupid that the boy had said and he’d walked right into the cafeteria as Billy kept up a steady stream of bullshit to rile him up.

Being so distracted clearly had some consequences for him. The consequence of realising exactly where he was mid sentence before Billy was already pushing at his shoulders.

Griffin was slowly starting to learn not to underestimate Billy Showalter.

“Hi Griffin!” Griffin turned towards the voice next to him and really wasn’t surprised to see Bruce there, smiling brightly at him.

Griffin shot him a tight, uncomfortable smile back. “Hi.”

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Robin said from where he sat across from Griffin.

“You know, if you don’t want to be here, you can leave, we won’t mind,” Finney said reassuringly as he leaned forward, his eyes trained on Griffin.

“Yeah, you look a bit uncomfortable over there,” Vance taunted with a smirk.

Griffin hummed. “Yes, so nice of you to notice,” he smiled sarcastically.

“It’s so nice to have you sit with us, Griffin,” Bruce said. “Billy has been trying to get you here for ages.”

“Don’t I know it,” Griffin returned weakly.

Bruce just grinned. “Yeah, I suppose you do,” his dark eyes sparkled with mirth. “Is your skateboard still up and at ‘em?”

“Yeah, thanks, I still owe you one for that,” Griffin’s shoulders slumped a little as a little bit of tension left his body at the easy conversation with Bruce. The boy just shook his head with a small smile before he turned towards his lunch, immediately kicking up a storm as he discovered that Vance was eating his apple.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” Robin pointed out as he pulled his own lunch from his bag.

Griffin had forgot his lunch. In his head, a flash of the paper bag sitting on the kitchen table was taunting him now. “No.”

Robin stared at him for a moment, waiting for Griffin to tell him why he wouldn’t eat, Griffin just stared back. “…Alright,” the boy said finally when he realised he wouldn’t get an answer back and he focused on his own lunch. 

“You’re not hungry?” Finney asked, eyebrows pinched in worry.

“I’m okay, thank you,” Griffin smiled at his friend.

“You smile for him but not for me?” Billy asked incredulously.

“I like him,” Griffin said simply.

“You like me too?!” Billy exclaimed. “We started over. We shook on it and all.”

“Oh no, we’re not there yet,” Griffin shook his head.

“Oh, come on, angel, what do I need to do to make you smile at me?” Billy prodded.

There was it again. That endearment. Billy had called him ‘pretty boy’ anytime class ended. That one made his hackles rise, because Billy knew he said it, knew what he was doing and it was always followed with a grin.

But ‘Angel’. The word seemed to escape Billy’s mouth without him knowing it, as if he doesn’t notice the word slipping into his words. Griffin schooled his expressions into something that wouldn’t betray how it affected him. Griffin would let it slide. For now.

Griffin shrugged. “Say something funny.”

“Really? It’s that simple?” Billy returned sceptically, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Griffin nodded in answer.

“Seriously?”

“Why? Are you not funny?”

“I am plenty funny, believe me,” Billy’s stressed, his tone slightly offended. His face then screwed up in thought for a moment before he lighted up again. The boy leaned close to Griffin, invading his personal space as his mouth was directly next to Griffin’s ear.

“They don’t know this,” Billy tilted his head in the direction of his friends. “And if I have a say about something they never will if I don’t want to lose my head, but I let you in on a little secret, Griffin Stagg, and it stays between you and me,” Billy pulled back just a bit so he could look Griffin in the eyes, his face inches apart of the other boy’s face.

Griffin narrowed his eyes in suspicion but he gave Billy a nod anyways. Billy leaned in close again and Griffin could feel the boy’s warm breath against his ear when he whispered.

“So you know how Finn is really into astronomy, right?” Billy began and he waited for Griffin to nod before continuing.

“Well, when Robin and Finn were still into their mutual crush phase and neither doing anything about it, Robin wanted help on how to woo Finn,” Billy explained, his words were laced with obvious amusement. “Three guesses as to who he came to for help.”

“You,” Griffin answered anyway, even though it was clearly a rhetorical question.

“Exactly, angel,” Billy grinned. “And as the good friend that I am, I helped him come up with a plan to talk to Finn. I told Robin that Finn likes astrology. Not astronomy.”

Griffin’s eyes widened a moment later in realisation and he glanced quickly in between Finney and Robin. Luckily, they were both too absorbed with each other to notice him watching them. 

“You- you set him up for failure,” Griffin whispered, the corners of his mouth ticked up just barely.

“Not any more than he would’ve done himself,” Billy replied.

“God, you’re awful,” a small smile was now playing on Griffin’s lips.

Billy laughed silently. “You should’ve seen Finn’s face when Robin began to talk to him about how he’d read how their signs, a Cancer and an Aquarius, are pretty compatible. Finn, not being into all that crap, had not a fucking clue about what Robin was talking about. He had looked so offended then when Robin listed planets entirely incorrectly.”

And would you look at that. Billy Showalter was more than a newspaper throwing jock.

“Finn had explained to Robin that he liked astronomy, not astrology,” Billy continued. “Robin had turned red as a tomato then but Finn took pity on him and invited Robin to the library with him for a crash course.”

Griffin’s lips ticked up into a full smile at that and he shook his head fondly.

“Oh my god,” Billy said suddenly and Griffin’s smile instantly dropped off his face. “Did I just make the Griffin Stagg smile?”

“No,” Griffin warned and he turned to face Billy again but instantly regretted that as he forgot how close they were.

“Oh, but I did,” Billy smiled gleefully and he wiggled his eyebrows for extra measure.

Exasperated and a little embarrassed now, Griffin pushed Billy’s face away with a hand on the boy’s cheek. But to his utter surprise, Billy quickly grabbed his hand to hold it there against his cheek.

Billy’s cheek was warm and soft under Griffin’s hand and his thumb swiped over the other boy’s cheekbone on its own accord. All Griffin could do was stare, stare at how Billy’s hand tightened around his own hand at Griffin’s caress, stare at how the other boy’s smile turned incredibly satisfied.

Griffin didn’t know what to do with that.

So he did the only thing that felt logical.

“I- uh- I gotta go,” Griffin eased his hand off Billy’s cheek, quietly noticing how Billy’s hand lingered before he let go. “Something came up.”

“Thought so,” Billy said knowingly, that infuriating smile still on his lips as he began to rummage in his bag, looking for something.

Finney turned towards Griffin just as he stood up from their table, his conversation with Vance coming to a halt. “Everything okay?”

God, Griffin could cry from gratefulness that nobody saw that debacle.

Instead Griffin just nodded and leaned down to scoop his backpack off the ground and sling it over his shoulder. “Just forgot something in my locker.”

“Alright,” Finney nodded back. “See you in English?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Griffin began to back away from the table before a hand grabbed his wrist, followed by a small cold, plastic bag being placed in his hand.

Griffin looked bewildered at the apple slices with cinnamon in his hand before he looked at Billy. “Eat it,” the boy told him from where he still sat in his seat, looking up at him with those green eyes.

Griffin didn’t even know what to say to that other than give a quick nod and a confused, “Bye,” before he hurried out of the cafeteria and towards the exit.

What even was his life right now.

~~~

“Billy, you sly dog,” Robin hooted as soon as Griffin was out of earshot.

“I’m sorry! I couldn’t help myself,” Billy leaned forward to bury his face in his folded arms. “His hand was just right there.”

Billy could practically hear Vance rolling his eyes before he felt Bruce scooting over to him. “It was kind of you to give him your apple slices with cinnamon, Billy,” he said, his hand sliding into Billy’s hair to soothe him.

“I thought he might like them,” Billy mumbled, his voice a bit muffled by the way he had his head shoved in his arms.

“He does seem like the type of person to like cinnamon,” Bruce commented reassuringly.

“Yes,” Finn piped up. “He does like cinnamon.”

“Okay, that’s- yeah, that’s good,” Billy said weakly. He felt close to dying of embarrassment.

~~~

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon when Griffin was skating down the streets. The sun was out in the sky, accompanied by a few clouds here and there and a warm breeze that made Griffin’s shirt flap behind him.

Griffin’s mom was home again, passed out on the couch before the tv. Griffin liked to stay out of the house when she was there. Her presence made him feel suffocated in the house, looming over him even though they weren’t in the same room.

Griffin just needed to get out.

The streets led him to the park and he pushed off the ground to go faster. Griffin liked it in the park. The path went through the forest, through the trees, past a lake and past the playground with an open space to do whatever, along with two metal soccer goals.

It was there, when Griffin skated around it, he heard his name being called. Confused, Griffin slowed down to a halt and turned his head in the direction of where he heard his name.

There, in all his glory, stood Billy Showalter waving excitedly at him, his foot resting on a football while Robin stood bent over, his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

Griffin was fully planning on skating away again but Billy was already waving him over and Robin was staring him down.

With a roll of his eyes, Griffin skated over where the ground met grass before he picked up his skateboard, tucked it under his arm and walked over to the pair.

“No smile for me today?” Billy asked as soon as Griffin was in hearing distance.

Griffin sent him a sarcastic smile. “Go fuck yourself.”

Griffin watched Billy’s eyes narrow in on his fake smile before he grinned. “I’ll take it.”

Griffin gave him a deadpan stare before he looked past Billy at Robin. “Arellano,” Griffin greeted with a nod.

“Stagg,” the boy answered in kind.

“Where’s the rest of your little gang?” Griffin asked.

“Finn had to work, Bruce had a family thing and we don’t even know where Vance is,” Robin responded.

“Seems shady,” Griffin mused.

“Yeah, well, that’s one way to describe him,” Robin shrugged in a ‘what can you do?’ kind of way.

“Don’t do him like that, Robs, you know where he is,” Billy smiled mischievously as he hit Robin’s shoulder with the back of his hand.

“I’m just kidding,” Robin chuckled. “He’s with Bruce and his family. Bonding or something.”

It was sweet, Griffin thought, because he hadn’t expected Vance and Bruce to end up together. What with Bruce being literally sunshine incarnate and Vance being a ball of rage, it didn’t seem likely. But here they are and whatever makes Bruce happy.

“Exactly,” Billy nodded. “We’re just playing a bit of soccer.”

“You sure you want to call it that? Looks to me like Robin is losing his dignity bit by bit,” Griffin commented, his mind reminding him of all the times he skated past the field and see Robin face plant, trip or getting the ball stolen from him.

“Har har,” Robin deadpanned. “Aren’t you funny.”

“The funniest actually,” Griffin sent him a mocking smile.

Billy cleared his throat. “You want to try?” He kicked the ball under his foot gently towards Griffin, the ball hitting his shoe.

“No, thank you,” Griffin kicked it back, a little harder than Billy had as it hit the boy’s shin.

“I bet you wouldn’t even get the ball near the goal,” Robin taunted as he bent down to pick up the ball.

Griffin eyed Robin disdainfully. “Excuse me?”

Robin smirked at him and he shared a look with Billy, the other boy looking exasperated. Robin looked back at Griffin and leaned forward. “I bet you wouldn’t even get the ball near the goal,” he repeated in a low voice.

Griffin scoffed indignantly. “We’ll see about that,” and he snatched the ball out of the boy’s hands before he walked away to stand a good distance away from the goal.

“Seriously, Robin?” Billy sighed.

“Absolutely, Billy,” Robin patted his shoulder before he walked away to join Griffin, Billy walking over to the goal.

“I just kick it, right?” Griffin questioned as soon as Robin stood next to him, his eyes not leaving the goal with Billy standing in the middle of it.

“That’s right,” Robin placed his hands on his hips. “Go on.” Griffin shushed him harshly.

“Ready when you are!” Billy shouted from where he stood, his hands cupped around his mouth to be heard better.

“Don’t rush me!” Griffin shouted right back. He could hear Billy chuckle in response and he rolled his eyes.

Griffin backed up from the ball, his eyes switching between the ball and the goal. He swiftly moved forwards and kicked the ball as hard as he could at the goal.

He wasn’t exactly aiming for the goal, though. 

The ball raced through the air and hit Billy in the stomach at full force, the boy immediately doubled over to clutch his stomach before he fell to his knees, wheezing as he went.

Next to him, Robin bursted out laughing at the unexpected scene and much like Billy had, he doubled over to clutch at his stomach.

Griffin huffed out a laugh. “You good, Showalter?” he shouted.

Billy held out a weak thumbs up. “Never better, angel.”

“Of course,” Griffin smiled lazily before he chanced a look beside him. Robin was still laughing and Griffin felt his smile getting bigger as he leaned down slightly to speak to Robin.

“I aimed for Billy, not the goal,” he said before he leaned back satisfied as another round of laughter made its way out of Robin, this one more hysterical.

After a moment, or two, Robin heaved himself up right, a deep sigh escaping him along with the last bits of his laugher. He clapped Griffin on the shoulder, Griffin jolting slightly under his touch in surprise. “I can see why Finney likes you, Stagg.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for you, Arellano,” Griffin griped back.

Robin chuckled at that before he pushed at Griffin’s shoulder until they were standing face to face. “Robin,” he said and he held up a hand.

Griffin eyed the hand in front of him and the one on his shoulder before meeting Robin’s eyes. This moment reminded him of that day after he fell in front of Billy.

Just like that day, Griffin gripped Robin’s hand in a handshake. “Griffin.”

Robin held his hand for a few more seconds as he searched Griffin’s face for something. Griffin didn’t know what he was looking for but he thinks Robin found it as he smiled in satisfaction.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be good for him,” he nodded absentmindedly before he released his hand and stepped back to face the goal again. 

“Good for who? What’re you talking about?” Griffin frowned at Robin.

Robin smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it, trust me.

“That seems like a bad idea,” Griffin said back. 

“It’s not a far fetched idea,” Robin turned his head to the side to look at him, his expression surprisingly serious and earnest all of a sudden.

It felt like an olive branch was being offered to Griffin, something tantalisingly fragile but sure and steady all the same. An extend of a trusting hand in friendship.

Griffin watched him carefully. “No, it doesn’t seem so.”

Robin smiled softly then and Griffin couldn’t help but return it. A certain understanding passing between them.

The only thing is that Robin seemed to understand it. Griffin thinks he isn’t quite there yet.

The hours seemed to pass by quickly then and it didn’t take long before Robin went home, his uncle needing him for something.

Griffin walked along with Billy towards the exit of the park where his bike stood.

“Did you have fun?” Billy asked as he went to stand next to his bike. The sun was setting behind Billy, the golden light lighting up his hair. Griffin thinks it makes it look as if there’s a halo around his head.

Griffin shrugged. “It was alright.” He actually did have fun, but Griffin wouldn’t give Billy the satisfaction of hearing that.

Billy seemed to know anyway as he smiled knowingly while he shoved his football in his backpack. “Of course,” he indulged before he rummaged through his backpack again. A second later he retrieved something from it and zipped the bag closed

“Here,” Billy held out that same plastic bag again.

“Why?” Griffin frowned down at the small bag with apple slices and cinnamon as if it had personally offended him.

“What, you don’t like it?” Billy stood up and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

Griffin quickly snatched the bag out of Billy’s hand when the boy began to pull back. “That’s not the problem. I mean why do you give these to me?”

“Because you like them,” Billy said confidently. 

“I never said that,” Griffin said.

“You didn’t have to,” Billy returned and leaned back so that his hip was resting against the seat of his bike. “I know you enough now to know that.”

“You can’t say that,” Griffin disagreed. “You don’t know me enough to say that.”

“Well, I do intend to get to know you, Griffin Stagg,” Billy smirked at him. “If you let me.”

Griffin scoffed and he backed away from Billy to let him know he was done with the conversation and was going to go. “You can certainly try, Billy Showalter,” he spun around and began to walk in the direction of the exit of the park.

But before he could get to far, Griffin felt a hand grab his wrist and pull him back. Griffin gasped at the sudden motion before he grunted when he made contact with Billy’s chest, an arm circling around his waist to keep him there.

Griffin looked up at Billy with a scowl on his face, the other boy just smiled innocently at him.

“I will know you, Griffin,” Billy said so certain of himself that it honestly took Griffin a little taken aback.

Griffin decided to play along. “Yeah? Why so sure?” He asked sweetly.

“Don’t know,” Billy answered honestly as he smiled down gently at Griffin.

Griffin frowned. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

Billy’s smile grew wider and Griffin could feel his heart beating just a tick faster. “I have a feeling.”

“Oh sure you do,” Griffin mocked in return.

“I do,” Billy grinned cheerfully.

Griffin let a tight lipped smile stretch across his lips. “You’re full of shit.”

And just like before, Billy barked out a laugh, as if Griffin hadn’t just insulted him. The boy swayed them in a circle as he laughed, Griffin found it oddly comforting as he gripped the taller boy’s shoulders.

Griffin smiled amused. “You’re crazy,” he said when Billy’s laughter died down to a content smile.

“Crazy for you, angel,” Billy returned.

Griffin pulled a disgusted face but laughed nonetheless as he shoved the boy away from him, warm hands leaving his waist. “Asshole.”

Billy stumbled away from him, laughing, before he came up to Griffin again. “Come on,” he coaxed. “Let me give you a ride home,” Billy grabbed Griffin by the hand and laced their fingers together.

Griffin was too distracted by the way their hands slotted perfectly together to protest.

Chapter Text

“Are you fucking dumb or do you genuinely don’t know what’s going on?” Vance said bluntly.

Griffin watched a bit stunned as Vance walked the last few steps up to the top of the bleachers where he sat.

“Excuse me?” Griffin said finally, still half stunned and now half offended.

“That was not at all how we were going to ask you that,” Bruce said exasperated as he rubbed a hand down his face.

Griffin’s head whipped towards Bruce, who stood on his other side looking down at him. Griffin had not seen him coming up the stairs like he did  with Vance.

“Wait, what is going on?” Griffin said slowly as he frowned in confusion at them.

“Are you stupid?” Vance asked straightforwardly.

“Vance,” Bruce said sharply and he shot a warning look at the blonde boy.

“No, Bruce,” Vance countered and he shook his head, his long blond curls moving at the motion. “Come on, Stagg, are you stupid?” He taunted.

Griffin’s eyes went back and forth between Bruce and Vance for a few seconds before they settled on Vance. Griffin scowled, “I’m not stupid, Hopper,” he replied, his tone clipped.

“Then, pray tell, why are you acting like it?” Vance challenged and he took a step closer towards Griffin, practically looming over the younger boy.

Griffin could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise and his temper flared up in frustration and confusion. Griffin shot a calculating look at Bruce before he stood up, looking at Vance again.

“Back off,” Griffin said, an edge to his voice that was clearly heard by the other boy by the way a smirk stretched across his lips.

“Or what? You gonna break a skateboard over my head again?” Vance bend down at the waist to Griffin’s height, looking him in the eyes as he set his hands on his knees.

Griffin heard Bruce’s choked, “Again?” but paid it no mind.

Griffin narrowed his eyes as he tilted his head to the side. Griffin knew Vance was taunting him, knew he was trying to get him to lash out, knew that this was a test. Griffin just looked at him, letting his eyes sweep over Vance’s form. Griffin played these games before. He’s too good at it now to lose.

“I might,” he said finally, a grin that could almost be described as feral slowly appeared on his lips but not reaching his eyes, clearly being fake.

Vance did the same then, tilting his head to the side to study the smaller boy. After a moment, he huffed out a laugh.

“You know, you are batshit crazy,” Vance stood back up to his full height again.

“Yeah, we match,” Griffin deadpanned.

That got a harsh bark of laughter out of Vance, the boy looking over Griffin’s shoulder at Bruce. “The kid’s got jokes.” Bruce just laughed along nervously.

“Never mind, Stagg,” Vance continued. “We’ll watch the crash when it’ll burn.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Griffin narrowed his eyes.

“You clearly don’t know so let it rest,” Vance turned away from Griffin to walk down the stairs again.

Bruce opened his mouth to protest but Vance beat him to it. “Bruce, he’ll find out soon enough, come on.”

“Seriously?” Griffin questioned as Bruce gave an apologetic shrug before he began to walk down the stairs on the other side. “What the hell are you talking about? First Robin and now you two,” Griffin quickly gathered his things before he hurried after Vance.

Vance paused at hearing his words and he shared a look with Bruce. “What did Robin say?” Bruce asked then.

Griffin halted a few steps above Vance. “‘You’re gonna be good for him’ Robin said to me. What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Don’t worry about it, trust me,” Bruce assured with a nervous smile.

“You know, that’s exactly what Robin said to me when I questioned him,” Griffin said. “I told him that seems like a bad idea. Is it the same with you two? I mean it, what’s going on?”

Bruce sighed deeply. “That’s not it, you can trust us. It’s just not my secret to tell.”

And okay. Griffin could respect that, he wasn’t going to force Bruce to reveal another person’s secret. “Fine. Can I at least know who the secret belongs to?” Griffin argued, face set in a frown.

Bruce shared another look with Vance. The blond just rolled his eyes and he made a ‘go on’ motion with his hand.

Bruce looked at Griffin again. “Billy’s,” he said. 

“Billy’s?” Griffin asked incredulously. “What does Billy need secrets for? He’s an open book,” The boy hurried after Vance and Bruce when they began walking down the steps again.

“Everyone’s got their secrets,” Vance said.

“Secrets who hurt them, who hurt others, in his case it doesn’t hurt anyone or himself,” Bruce continued, his feet meeting grass when he stepped of the last step.

“And in your case, on the other hand, you got secrets that hurt you,” Vance scoffed.

That halted Griffin in his steps, air stuck in his throat. Vaguely, he watched Bruce come to a stop a few feet away from him, his hand tugging at Vance’s wrist to get him to stop.

“You don’t know anything about me,” Griffin said and he hated the way his voice shook just the slightest bit.

“We know enough,” Vance responded, his tone wasn’t as harsh then it was before, softening just around the edges. As if he knew what he was beginning to deal with.

“Griffin,” and Griffin hated the way Bruce said his name as he slowly walked back towards him, as if he was trying not to spook a scared animal. “We know enough,” Bruce repeated Vance’s words and Griffin couldn’t help the slight flinch when the other boy laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Stop,” Griffin frowned and he turned his head to the side stubbornly.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Bruce said softly. “To let us in.”

Griffin’s turned his head back sharply, his eyes meeting Bruce’s. “Bruce, what do you know?” He asked slowly, each word emphasised with a hint of desperation to know what the other boy knows.

Bruce hesitated, a conflicted look on his face and his mouth hung open at the unexpected question.

God, Griffin didn’t know how they even came here. It went from Vance and Bruce speaking in riddles just like Robin to Billy’s supposed secret and now to this. Griffin had worked so, so hard to make it look like nothing was wrong, making everyone see his armor instead of his flesh. The only one who knew was Finney and Donna, and Griffin had preferred it to stop with them. Both of them had made permanent cracks in his carefully crafted mask and he certainly wasn’t looking for any more.

Griffin fears it would break. He would break.

No. He’s been close before and he couldn’t let that happen again.

“What the fuck do you know?” Griffin repeated, his voice shook again and he hated himself for it.

Bruce closed his mouth as a look of understanding watched over his face. “Griffin, it’s okay,” the boy’s dark eyes went incredibly soft while at the same time they felt like they were burning into Griffin’s skin.

It made Griffin’s own eyes water and he gripped Bruce’s hand that was still on his shoulder. “Bruce, please,” he pleaded.

“Your mom can barely look at you,” Vance told him then from his place at Bruce’s elbow and Griffin’s head whipped towards him so fast, and he felt Bruce’s other hand landing on his shoulder. He hadn’t even seen Vance moving towards them.

“My mom, uh, she knew your parents in high school,” Bruce said softly, his hand grounding Griffin barely. “She told me you were a spitting image of your dad.”

“She resents you for it,” Vance told him.

“Vance!” Bruce whipped his head to the side, his face mortified.

“That’s it?” Griffin whispered. “I don’t- I don’t even remember what my dad looks like and you’re telling me I look just like him? That’s why she hates me?”

“No! God, Griffin,” Bruce turned his mortified eyes back on the smaller boy. “She doesn’t hate you.”

“Then what is it?” Griffin replied immediately. “What is it? Is it- is it some kind of love? Is that what you would call it? Love? I mean, she has her moments but not enough. It’s not enough anymore.”

Griffin felt close to a breakdown and brought his hands up to cover his face. “How do you even know all this?” His voice was muffled as he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw a world of colours.

“Friends talk, Griffin,” Bruce said softly and Griffin felt the boy rub soothing circles into his shoulders.

“Your mom’s friends with my mom? Is that what you’re telling me?” Griffin slowly brought his hands down from his face.

“Known each other since high school and they work at the same hospital,” Bruce explained.

“Right, of course,” Griffin mumbled, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Why do you know this?”

“Got asked to keep an eye on you,” Bruce told him.

Griffin removed his hands from his face to look at Bruce. “What? Like a stalker?”

Bruce smiled bashfully at that. “Well, I wouldn’t call it that exactly. More like a, uh, a guardian angel. I would call it a guardian angel.”

Griffin huffed out a small laugh at that. “Alright, whatever you want to call it. What’s Vance then? Also a guardian angel.”

Bruce turned to Vance with a smile just as the other boy rolled his eyes and sighed long suffered. “I think the word stalker suits him more, don’t you think?” Bruce send Griffin a wink while he tried to stifle a smile.

“Whatever, dipshits, let’s go,” Vance nodded his head towards the school. Bruce laughed at that, his eyes crinkling with mirth. When his laughter died down, he turned back to Griffin. The boy just  smiled softly, eyes gentle.

And in a split second, Griffin was being dragged by the arm into Bruce’s arms, his forehead bumping into the boy’s shoulder. Griffin didn’t know what to do for a moment but after a second he carefully hugged the boy back.

The hug felt like Finney’s, unsurprisingly really, warm, safe, just enough pressure to keep him comfortable. Not long after, Bruce pulled back, his hands on Griffin’s shoulders again to keep him close.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We got space for another secret in our heads,” Bruce smiled assuringly as he tapped the side of his head with a finger.

“You can trust us,” Vance added and he looked like it took everything in him to say that.

Griffin suppressed a smile at that. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Bruce’s smile just widened before he slung a casual arm around Griffin’s shoulders to lead him away from the sport fields. “Come on.”

On the short walk back to the school building, Bruce filled the air with easy conversation, talking about his classes, homework and friends and Griffin perked up at that.

“Hey, so about that, any chance I could get in on that secret?” Griffin asked.

“Ha! Nice try, Griff,” Bruce laughed and he ruffled the other boy’s hair, quickly dancing out of reach before Griffin could swat his hand away. “I’ll see you two later,” the boy kissed Vance on the cheek before he waved his goodbye.

And believe it or not. Griffin, honest to God, saw Vance’s lips ticking up just the slightest. Griffin couldn’t help the amused smile stretching across his lips.

When Vance turned to him, his smile instantly turned back into his usual scowl. “Keep your mouth shut, Stagg,” he said and he shoved Griffin away from him before he continued walking.

Griffin couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “I didn’t say anything!”

Griffin sidled up next to Vance again as they walked when suddenly the blond boy halted in his steps, Griffin stopping as well, a confused frown on his face and he looked around to try to find what caught Vance’s eye. “What-,” the boy began to say when Vance interrupted him

“Hey,” Vance began, his voice sounding harsh but Griffin could hear the underlying tone of wariness in it, which made him look up at the other boy. Vance wasn’t looking at him though, Griffin followed his gaze until they landed onto a boy who was looking at them in distaste.

Vance looked back at Griffin. “Watch your back today.”

Griffin’s frown only deepened before he followed Vance into the schoolbuilding.

~~~

Stupid detention.

Griffin blamed his math teacher for that. What was he supposed to do? Not call the guy out for telling them the wrong information? It’s not his fault his teacher can’t stand it when someone corrects him. Insecure asshole.

Talking back is apparently such a crime nowadays that it earned Griffin another detention. Third time already this month, his mom would be glad to get a letter from the school. He’s being sarcastic and she doesn’t even read them anyway.

Griffin was just closing the door to the classroom where detention was being held and was on his way to his locker for a quick stop when he came face to face with the same boy that he and Vance saw outside, behind him he could see two of his friends with him.

Griffin sighed deeply. “What do you want, Matt?” He scowled.

The boy just smirked. “How’s your dad?”

Okay, that dig at his dead dad was actually getting real old and fast.

“How original of you. Couldn’t come up with anything better, could you, Matt? You know what, why don’t you just get hit by a car,” Griffin told him.

“Thought you were a loner, Stagg. I didn’t think you actually knew how to socialise,” Matt said.

“Oh, someone’s been acting like a stalker, I see,” Griffin smiled pleased when Matt lost the smirk to instead scowl at him. “Have you been watching me?”

Matt spluttered when he heard one of his friends behind him snicker. “Don’t flatter yourself, Stagg. Why would anyone want to associate with the likes of you?”

“Why? Are you jealous? Jealous that Bruce Yamada would rather be friends with me than you? You’re the one that tried out for the baseball team and made an absolute fool of yourself,” Griffin taunted.

“Jealous? Of you?” Matt laughed but Griffin knew the comment about the baseball team had hit its designated target. “For someone who’s practically invisible, you are quite full of yourself.”

“I try to be,” Griffin snarked back and he brushed past Matt, his shoulder bumping into Matt’s on purpose.

“Yeah, well, don’t. You’re exhausting,” Matt’s voice followed behind Griffin.

“Yeah, I’ve been told that a few times,” Griffin pushed the door open to the stairwell, the door hitting the wall behind it. He wasn’t surprised to hear the door hitting the wall again behind him.

“When do you start believing that? You know it’s true that nobody actually wants you around, right?” Matt called behind him.

Griffin halted on the on the stairs. “You got proof to back that up?”

“I don’t need proof, Stagg, it’s a fact that everyone in this school knows,” Matt laughed.

Don’t let him get to you. Don’t let him get to you.

“I don’t doubt that,” Griffin muttered.

“What’s that, Stagg?” Matt mocked loudly. “Speak up.”

“Why don’t you just wallow in the pity that people throw at you, Matt, it would be a change of all the money your parents throw around for tutors that don’t help,” Griffin resumed his walking down the stairs.

“You’re going to regret saying that, Stagg,” Matt’s voice was laced with barely contained anger. Griffin could hear the thundering of feet against the stairs behind him.

“It’s not my fault you can’t keep up. Do us all a favour and just quit high school, yeah? I see a future for you and it’s not gonna be bright, school’s not going to fix that,” Griffin knew the moment that when that last word escaped his lips that he’d gone to far. A hand clamping down on his shoulder and roughy turning him around was an answer enough.

Griffin should have expected that punch after he said that.

~~~

And this is why he doesn’t do fights, at least not physical fights. Griffin much prefers to hurt people with his words, because it gives him a different kind of satisfaction every time he lands another successful blow of hurtful words.

Finney always liked to point out to him that Vance and him were alike in that way. Both liked to get back at the people that did them wrong but in different ways.

While Vance would not waste a second to punch someone, Griffin liked to take his time, liked to collect the right words and choose them wisely before they would struck his victim. Both take a grim satisfaction when it comes to situations like this.

But apparently, Matt didn’t get the memo that he doesn’t do fights. The split lip, blossoming bruise on his cheekbone and the twisted ankle when he fell were answers enough.

He inspected his face in the mirror, sitting on the counter to get closer to it, the bathroom mercifully empty as school’s been out for at least a good hour.

That’s why he didn’t expect the door to swing open and he immediately stilled, his shoulders tensing in anticipation as he looked over his shoulder behind him.

A quick glance at blond hair and a soccer bag made the tension ease out of him again.

“Knew you’d be here,” a familiar voice said as greeting.

“What are you? A stalker? No wonder you’re friends with Bruce and Vance,” Griffin snarked before he turned back towards the mirrors. Billy chuckled at that and he walked closer to Griffin, dropping his bag in the process.

As soon as Billy stood in front of Griffin, any hints of a smile instantly disappeared from his face as Billy got a good look of the other boy. Griffin watched as the boy’s eyes roamed over his face, lingering on the bruise on his cheekbone and the split lip that he knew was still bleeding.

Griffin knew Billy had questions he wanted to ask and things he wanted to say. Griffin could see it in his face, could see it in the furrow of his eyebrows, could see it in the pull of his mouth and the hardening of his eyes.

“Let’s take a look at you,” Billy said lowly instead, his hands cradling Griffin’s face. His thumb swept gently over the dark bruise on his face as he assessed the damage.

Griffin moved unconsciously towards Billy, unfurling his legs from where they sat close to this body when he was inspecting his face in the mirror, now letting them dangle over the edge of the counter.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Billy’s voice sounded void of emotion, Griffin couldn’t place what he was feeling right now.

“My, uh, just my ankle,” Griffin murmured and he watched as Billy’s eyes went downwards. “It’s not broken, just fell on it wrong.”

“Griffin, what happened?” Billy asked quietly. That caught Griffin off guard, hearing his own name out of Billy’s mouth. He called him by his first name. No pet name or last name this time.

“I fell,” Griffin lied. “With my skateboard. I was practicing a trick,” he quickly elaborated when Billy gave him a look.

Billy turned away from him to grab a few paper towels, he held it under the water before he brought it up to Griffin’s lip, stepping into his personal space and Griffin opened his legs a little so that Billy could stand in between them, giving him better access.

The coldness of the paper towel had Griffin jolting a bit when Billy pressed it against his lip. “Are you expecting me to believe that?” Billy asked, his voice low as his eyes were trained on his task.

“I’m not expecting anything. I’m just telling you how it is,” Griffin said, his own eyes trained on those green eyes that just wouldn’t look at him.

Griffin knows that’s his own fault.

“That’s not how it is. We both know that,” Billy returned vehemently, his eyes flickered to Griffin’s for only a second before looking at his lip again.

Griffin was digging a deeper hole for himself with every word that came out of his mouth. He didn’t know why he didn’t tell Billy the truth. Griffin just couldn’t comprehend just yet that there was another person beginning to care for him, making themselves at home in his heart. But just because they were making home in his heart, doesn’t mean he’s making home in their hearts. His heart began to feel crowded and not in a good way.

“Talk to me, Griffin,” Billy tapped the cheek that wasn’t bruised.

“Billy, I don’t know what you want me to say,” Griffin told him stubbornly.

“Then tell me the truth, Griffin, just the truth,” Billy said, his eyes meeting Griffin’s finally, not just a fleeting glimpse of green this time.

“I told you that,” Griffin told him defensively and he bristled when Billy’s eyes looked away from him again.

Billy sighed deeply in frustration. “Okay, just-, please don’t do that again, princess,” Billy requested. “You gotta wait for your knight in shining armor to come and save you.”

“And with that you mean yourself, don’t you?” Griffin deadpanned at him, his nose crinkling in disgust at the nickname. “And don’t call me that,” he snapped as an afterthought.

“Of course!” Billy squawked in mild offense of Griffin thinking otherwise, the slight tension that was creeping up on them was slowly dissipating at the easy banter. “What? You’d rather have Finney come and save the day?”

Griffin felt a shiver go down his spine. Don’t get him wrong, he loves Finney very much, he was the first friend Griffin ever made so of course he loves him. It’s just that Finney has a major protective streak going on for his friends and will get a bit unhinged if they’re hurt or in danger. He’d rather let Robin deal with that specific personality trait. The boy seemed to be into it anyway.

“Thought so,” Griffin snapped out of his thoughts to be met with a small smirk on Billy’s lips. Griffin just frowned, displeased.

Billy pulled the wet paper towel he had been holding to Griffin’s lip away and took a step back, Griffin immediately missed the warmth the other boy was radiating off him.

“Now, why don’t you tell me the name of the person who did this,” Billy said firmly, his arms folded over his chest.

Griffin narrowed his eyes, “This again? Who says someone did this? I already told you that a trick went wrong.”

“And then?” Billy questioned.

Griffin’s head shot up to look at the taller boy, he frowned in confusion and wariness, not sure where Billy was going with this. “What?”

“What happened after that that got you looking like this?” Billy waved a hand down the length of Griffin’s body, as if proving his point, a frustrated look on his face.

“I look fine,” Griffin’s hackles rose at that, his tone defensive.

“You look like shit,” Billy returned almost hotly. 

Griffin scoffed and jumped down from the counter to look at himself in the mirror behind him. He didn’t miss the way Billy took a step closer to him when one of his knees buckled because of the pain that shot from his ankle all the way up his leg, the other boy’s hands grazing Griffin’s elbows. Griffin regained his balance by his hands that were still planted firmly on the counter, he breathed out harshly through his nose before he met Billy's eyes behind him through the mirror.

“Again, Billy.” Griffin told the other boy firmly. “A trick went wrong and I fell. Leave it alone,” he glared at the other boy. The lie burned hot on his tongue.

The pang of guilt that shot through him wasn’t unexpected but made the glare on his face slip away, anyway, as he saw Billy sigh and watched as his form slumped a bit in defeat. “Fine.”

Griffin turned his gaze back to the mirrors, staring at himself, not paying attention to the boy behind him until he felt large hands grip his waist, turning him to face Billy.

Griffin’s breath hitched when he looked up into blazing green eyes as a hand gripped his chin. Only when Billy turned Griffin’s face from side to side to assess the damage again, did air made its way back into Griffin’s lungs again.

Billy’s voice was quiet and soft when he spoke, as if he was scared to break the fragile silence. “I wish you’d trust me enough to tell me what’d happened,” the boy whispered, not once taking his eyes of Griffin’s face. Griffin noticed that they still didn’t meet his own eyes.

Griffin didn’t say anything. What was he supposed to say to that?

‘You’re wrong,’ Griffin wanted to say. ‘I do trust you.’

‘No, you don’t,’ a traitorous voice whispered back in his mind.

The voice was right. Griffin didn’t trust him. At least not fully. He couldn’t help it. Trust was a delicate thing for Griffin. When he was younger he trusted too easily but after a while he knew better. A harsh reality check filled with empty promises, each more disappointing than the next, did that to you. Griffin couldn’t help the wariness that was still ingrained in his mind, in his body. He knew by the way he held himself back. It wasn’t something that would go away overnight. Griffin thinks it will never go away.

He wanted to trust Billy, God, he wanted to. But Griffin was sure the boy would leave. Billy would get tired of him, he would pack up and leave and would unbeknownst to him take a part of Griffin’s heart with him. Griffin was getting attached, he couldn’t let that happen.

He wouldn’t let that happen.

‘-away,’ there was the voice again. ‘Push him away.’

“Hey,” Billy’s concerned voice broke through his line of thought. “What are you thinking about down there?” The boy swiped his thumb across Griffin’s cheekbone. Griffin hadn’t even realised the hand had travelled up to cup his face.

At any other time, any other day, Griffin would have cursed at the other boy and blame God for the fact that Billy Showalter was so much taller than him.

‘Push him away!’

Griffin stared blankly up at him.

“Griffin?”

“Yeah?”

“You okay?” Billy’s brows furrowed even more in concern, his other hand coming up to cup the other side of Griffin’s face.

‘No.’

“Yeah,” Griffin’s voice sounded hoarse and he cleared his throat, averting eye contact. “Yeah, fine.”

‘I’m not fine.’

Billy stared at him for a long moment. Griffin didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t know what he was looking for. Griffin didn’t want to know what he’d find. Either way, Griffin found that it didn’t really matter, both made him feel see through. As if those green eyes could see right through him, could see right through his skin and bones and right into his heart, his ugly, disgusting, bleeding, beating heart where all his feelings and thoughts lay under lock and key.

Griffin had thrown out the key long ago.

He chanced a look at Billy, grey meeting green, and it seemed that that was what made Billy snap out of it.

“Griffin, I-,” he began.

‘Push. Him. Away!’

Griffin didn’t let him finish.

“You know, Billy. It’s getting late,” Griffin interrupted quickly and he ducked his head. “I should go, thanks for your help,” he looked up again and smiled softly at Billy, a hint of sadness mixed into it.

Griffin gripped Billy’s wrists, his hands a warm comfort on his face, and gently pulled them away. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Griffin scooped his backpack up and slung it over his shoulder before he backed up towards the door, all without Billy not saying a word.

“Hmm? Yeah, yeah. Of course, Griffin. Any time,” the other boy’s words came out distracted, as if he was still processing the last few moments. Something flashed across his face when he looked at Griffin, something that Griffin couldn’t name.

‘Was that longing?‘ He thought in his head.

‘It wasn’t,’ that voice again. ‘Why would he want you?’

Now, wasn’t that a very good question? Why would someone like Billy Showalter want someone like Griffin Stagg?

Billy Showalter, who deserves nice things. Billy Showalter, who is meant for greatness. Billy Showalter, who is kind, gentle and knows what he wants. Billy Showalter, who has loving parents and friends. Billy Showalter, who has everything his heart could want.

And then there was him.

Griffin Stagg, who is not a nice thing. Griffin Stagg, who wasn’t meant for greatness, not meant for anything remotely close to it. Griffin Stagg, who is harsh, mean and a coward. Griffin Stagg, who has a mask engrained in his face, disguising every face, emotion and thought.

Then there was the winning question again.

Why would someone like Billy Showalter want someone like Griffin Stagg? Why would he when Billy has everything he could possibly want and need?

What did he need Griffin Stagg for?

It was a loaded question.

The thought made Griffin want to say words he wasn’t ready to speak, the back of his throat itching, burning with the need to get it out.

Too bad he still had some self control left, Griffin had not fell down that rabbit hole just yet.

Billy turned around, his back now facing Griffin, his bag lay now in the place where Griffin had sat earlier. “I’ll, uh,” Billy swallowed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Griffin walked backwards, his ankle protesting but Griffin ignored it while not taking his eyes off the other boy. “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Griffin went to open the door, his fingertips grazing the door handle but he stopped. The boy turned around again to look at Billy.

Griffin’s heart skipped a beat when he saw Billy already looking at him through the mirror, his back still towards Griffin but still watching him.

“Billy,” Griffin started. “We’re- we’re good, right?” He asked hesitantly.

Billy just stared at him for a few seconds longer with a blank look before his face softened. The boy shot him a soft smile.

“Always, princess,” Billy answered finally.

Griffin couldn’t help but smile back at him before his mind caught up to what Billy just called him. Again.

“Don’t call me that!” He snapped as his cheeks heated up, but it lacked the irritation behind the words to let Billy know he wasn’t really angry.

With that, he opened the door and quickly slipped past it, Billy’s laughter following behind him, the sound making something deep in his chest begin to thaw.

As Griffin walked away, a question began to stick inside his head.

Why did that voice sound just like himself?

~~~

The next day found Billy standing at his locker. His mind a storm of memories of the day before.

“You didn’t hear this from me, got it?” A voice said as soon as Billy closed the door to his locker. Donna smirked at the way the boy jumped at her sudden appearance, not having seen her standing behind his locker door.

“Didn’t hear what?” Billy asked.

“Matt beat him up,” Donna stated bluntly.

Billy blinked at her for a moment. “Come again,” he said finally, his body now tense as he felt a flash of anger, he tilted his head to the side in expectation.

“Matt. Beat. Him. Up,” Donna said word for word, the angry expression on her face told Billy that the girl really wasn’t happy about this.

“Where’d you get this from?” Billy asked suspiciously as he mirrored her position, he folded his arms across his chest and leaned sideways against his locker while facing her.

Donna shrugged almost casually but the tension in her shoulders gave her away. “Heard it through the rotten grapevine.”

“Right,” Billy said. “Well, I gotta go. Have to get to PE class,” he said as he shouldered his backpack onto his back and made to go walk past Donna.

“You have PE with Matt, right?” Donna’s question made him stop in his tracks.

Billy knew where she was going with this, because the same idea had formed in his head the moment she had said what she said.

Billy looked over his shoulder at Donna, a shark-like smile spreading across his lips. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “We’re playing baseball today.” Billy wasn’t surprised to see the same smile appearing on the girl’s face.

“Yeah, alright,” Donna said, her voice laced with satisfaction. “I’ll see you around, Showalter.”

“See ya, Clarke.”

It was no one’s business but Billy’s, and maybe Donna’s, that when he aimed the ball at Matt’s face instead of the bat in the other boy’s hand and in turn hearing the sickening crunch of Matt’s nose, it made him feel incredibly satisfied.

Chapter Text

He was five when his dad died on a nice spring morning.

Griffin remembers sitting on the hospital bed, across from his dad, who was propped up against the pillows. The hospital sheets scratched against his wrist as he gripped his dad’s hand, the beeping of the machines surrounding the bed a constant noise in the background.

He remembers asking his dad why his hospital room was so boring, all white and lacking all the bright colors Griffin liked, it was a true kid question to ask. He remembers his dad’s soft laughter before it turned into a coughing fit. He remembers his dad’s fond smile after he’d settled down again, asking him what color Griffin would like to paint the room if he could. 

He remembers telling his dad he would choose the color blue, the same shade as the ocean, it was his dad’s favourite color. His dad loved the ocean. Griffin remembers when he was four, they took a trip to the coast, he’d played for hours and hours in the sand and in the sea. When the sun began to set, he remembers his dad wrapping him up in a giant towel before he settled him on his hip. Griffin remembers his dad pulling his mom into his other side, the delighted laughter he got in return before they all watched the sunset, his head on his dad’s shoulder, mirroring his mom’s position.

He was five when his mom didn’t take the turn that led them to his school, instead she drove them to the hospital. Griffin remembers watching the moon that stood bright against the light blue morning sky before gentle orange light from the sun caressed his face. He remembers asking his mom why the moon was still up in the sky even though it was morning. She told him with a tense smile that the moon wasn’t tired yet.

He remembers…

Griffin never really could make out his dad’s face when he tries to remember just him. Just warm, calloused hands that would gently sweep his hair back, or the gentle humming of his dad when he would carry Griffin up the stairs to his room whenever he fell asleep in the car.

Just short memories, short feelings, short emotions. Over time, his dad’s face slowly began to change into something blurry, something unrecognisable, until he was just a distant someone that had travelled through Griffin’s early years.

He remembers the way his mom smiled, eyes so incredibly soft as she watched his dad, her feet barely grazing the ground as the swing bench rocked her gently back and forth. Griffin remembers the warmth of her body as he was tucked into her side, her cheek resting on his head.

It was that day by the coast when it all went downhill. His dad had collapsed in the sand when they were packing up their things. Griffin remembers the sand being cold against his knees and feet when he collapsed next to his dad on the sand to check on him, the sun already gone in the ocean to no longer warm the sand. He remembers his mom screaming for help across from him as her hands performed CPR on his dad’s still chest, the fear that was in her voice had Griffin rooted in his place. Griffin remembers the terrifying sound of a rib breaking while his mom kept doing compressions. He remembers his mom pulling her hands back like she’d been burned before she choked on a sob and started again on the compressions.

He remembers the ambulance, the medics who pushed him away, his mom pulling him into her arms as the ambulance drove away, his dad inside. He remembers driving to the hospital, his mom driving way over the speed limit. He had asked her to slow down, concerned about the way the trees and buildings were whooshing past them. She hadn’t heard him.

Griffin remembers his mom holding his hand tightly in her own, her sandals slapping against the floor as they walked briskly through the white hallways of the hospital. He remembers waiting alone on a chair in a waiting room, kicking his feet, his mom having disappeared somewhere.

The doctors called it, “Ischemic Heart Disease.” Something about clogged blood vessels preventing enough blood and oxygen from reaching the heart. His dad collapsed because of a heart attack.

Griffin remembers his mom bursting into tears as the doctors explained what would happen in the future while his dad beckoned him toward him, his hand outstretched and a reassuring smile on his face.

Griffin remembers his dad telling him that he would love him no matter what happened. He remembers his dad telling him that every time he would leave after a visit, after every visit where Griffin could see he was faring worse after each one, his pain hidden in the reassuring smile that was always at the ready. 

Five year old Griffin didn’t know that it was a front, a carefully crafted mask just like the one he wore now as a teenager.

He remembers on that spring morning, his dad’s eyes closed but not asleep while Griffin sat on his bed across from him, a picture book open in his lap, and his mom sat in the chair next to the bed, her own book in her hand. Griffin remembers the radio being on, Bob Dylan’s Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door filling the room.

Griffin remembers his dad opening his eyes and squeezing Griffin’s small hand, the action making him look up. He remembers his dad telling him that he loved him no matter what happened and telling him he was proud of him.

Griffin remembers being confused, because why did his dad tell him that, visiting hours wouldn’t be over for a long time. He remembers flinching at the machines around the bed that began beeping frantically, his dad’s hand loosening in his own hand.

Griffin remembers the flurry of white coats that raced into the room, pushing him aside as his mother sobbed into his hair and all he could think about was that the song hit the chorus just as the machines began to beep. A sign, an omen, a joke.

I feel I’m knockin’ on heaven’s door. Knock-knock-knockin’ on heaven’s door. Knock-knock-knockin’ on heaven’s door.

Griffin remembers it was a blur after that. He remembers standing next to his mom as the coffin was slowly being lowered down. He remembers people giving him hugs, shaking his hand, giving him their condolences. Griffin remembers a woman hugging his mom tightly, vaguely thinking that she looked a lot like a kid named Bruce, who was in the grade above him.

Griffin remembers his mom at the kitchen table late at night, her head in her hands as her golden wedding band lay in front of her. He remembers seeing his mom picking up more shifts at the hospital, late nights when the front door would open and she’d find Griffin asleep on the couch, trying to stay awake to wait for her.

He remembers seeing his mom less and less, he’d pass her in the morning when his mom came home from work and he’d leave for school. Griffin remembers the older he got, the more he noticed how his mom didn’t look at him, and whenever she did, a wistful expression came over her face before being replaced by something so sad that had Griffin turning away from her at the same time she did.

He remembers that over the years, that crestfallen look turned into something close to anger. Almost until it was. Griffin remembers slamming doors and words that cut just at the surface.

Griffin knows what he got from his parents. He has his mom’s eyes, his dad’s hair, his mom’s words and his dad’s masks. He has his dad’s empathy, buried deep, and his mom’s ferocity. He has his mom’s nose and his dad’s smile. He has his dad’s perseverance and his mom’s honesty. He’s a mix of his parents but according to Bruce, his mom only sees his dad.

And when Griffin looks in the mirror at himself, he doesn’t know what or who he sees. People can talk all they want, they can say that he’s a spitting image of his dad, or they can say that they see his mom instead but at the end of the day Griffin is neither his mom or his dad.

He’ll find it out on his own.

~~~

“You know, I totally did not raise you to solve your problems with fighting,” was the first thing Finney said when he took a seat next to Griffin in English class.

Griffin scoffed. “Didn’t know I was your child but alright.”

“What do we say?” Finney prompted.

Griffin ignored him at first, busying himself with finding the right page in his textbook. He sighed exasperated when Finney kept prodding him in the arm.

“What do we say?” Finney repeated.

“Use your words but if they keep going, walk away,” Griffin said, the words easily flowing from his mouth because Finney had rammed it into his head.

Finney mouthed along and he nodded when Griffin finished. “You didn’t walk away, I can tell.”

“I actually did, but Matt followed after me,” Griffin corrected.

“Fair,” Finney nodded. “So, who punched first then?”

Griffin looked up, a confused look on his face. “What?”

Finney looked at him oddly. “Who punched first?” He repeated slowly.

“What-, Finn, I didn’t hit him. He punched me,” Griffin turned in his seat to face him.

“Yeah, that’s clear but he looks more banged up than you. I’m just a little surprised because you always tell me that you fight with your words, not with your hands and I don’t blame you for using them this time,” Finney began to look confused now as well.

“Finn, that’s- that’s still the truth. I didn’t do anything,” Griffin stressed. “What’d he look like, anyway?”

“He has a broken nose,” Finn told him.

“I didn’t do that,” Griffin told him quietly.

“Oh,” Finney got a thoughtful look on his face before his face cleared after a few seconds. “Oh,” he said again and he looked like he’d figured something out, a slow smile stretching across his lips.

“What?” Griffin narrowed his eyes.

“Nothing, nothing,” Finney waved him off. Griffin could see he was trying to suppress his grin that was trying to break through. He failed miserably.

Griffin opened his mouth to push further but got interrupted by Donna sitting in front of them. “Hey,” she greeted, and she dumped her bag on her desk before she spun around in her seat, immediately catching Griffin’s face in her hand.

“God, look at you,” Donna said, her face looking pained as she gently turned his face from one side to the other.

“Stop it,” Griffin slapped her hand away.

“I gotta say, it was a pleasant surprise to see Matt in the hallway just now,” Donna told him. 

Griffin scowled while Finney snickered next to him. “Yeah, about that. Do you know anything about it?”

“Me? No,” Donna pointed at herself before she answered him way too fast for his liking.

“Of course not,” Griffin looked her up and down. “I totally believe that,” he said sarcastically and he turned his eyes to his paper where he was folding the corner of it.

“Hey, just out of curiosity,” Donna said, making him look back up at her. “Have you seen Showalter yet?”

Griffin’s brows furrowed. “Billy? No, not yet. Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” Donna said and she averted her eyes, Griffin watched her nod to herself.

“Clarke,” Griffin said forcefully. “What’s going on?”

Donna smiled sheepishly. “Just ask him.”

And just like that, he felt a puzzle piece that he knew was missing sliding into place just by her words alone. “Fine,” Griffin grunted and he settled down for class.

When the bell rang, signalling lunch break, he walked out of the room with Finney next to him, both waving at Donna as they split up.

Together they walked to the cafeteria and as soon as Griffin sat down next to Bruce, his face was intercepted again, two hands cradling his face and he looked right into Bruce’s almost black eyes.

“Good god, he did a number on you, didn’t he?” Bruce swept his thumb over the bruise on his cheekbone.

“You should’ve seen the other guy,” Griffin said weakly as he leaned more into Bruce’s warm hands until he noticed what he was doing and he slowly pulled away, Bruce letting him go.

“Yeah, a bruised ego is all that he walked away with,” Robin told them as he and Vance joined their table as well.

“Don’t forget the broken nose,” Vance reminded them, a mean, pleased smile on his face as he settled down on Bruce’s other side.

“Oh right, totally forgot about that for a second,” Robin snapped his fingers before he pointed at Vance.

“It’s hard to miss, Robs,” Finney grinned gently.

“I haven’t seen him yet, just heard it from Vance,” Robin responded with a shit-eating grin.

“Haven’t seen who yet?” Billy asked as greeting while he took the seat on Griffin’s other side.

“Matt,” Finney answered.

Griffin watched Billy carefully, the boy didn’t so much as blink at the name, only a corner of his mouth tilted up in disgust. “What’s wrong with him?”

Griffin has to give it to him, Billy knew how to keep others of his back, knew not to betray his actions.

Before anyone could answer him, Vance spoke up. “Ah,” he mused. “Look at that. The man of the hour.”

Griffin looked over his shoulder as the red haired boy walked towards his friends, scowling heavily while his brows were pinched in pain. Griffin heard Robin exclaim a laugh before he was loudly shushed by Bruce, lest they get unwanted attention on them.

Griffin turned away from the boy, not wanting to spare another glance at Matt and it was only because he looked back at Vance that Griffin caught a glance of Billy’s face.

The boy’s face was carefully blank, his posture stiff, but it was his eyes that caught Griffin’s eye. Billy’s eyes were practically glaring into Matt’s back. Griffin watched silently as Matt turned around, most likely feeling eyes watching him, and met Billy’s cold eyes. Matt’s eyes widened and Billy only smiled pleasantly, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

When Matt turned back around, Griffin turned back to Billy. The boy stared for a few seconds at Matt’s back before he turned back to his lunch, quickly glancing at Griffin and when he noticed Griffin watching, his eyes immediately softened as a small smile tugged at his lips.

“You good, sweetheart?” Billy questioned as Griffin narrowed his eyes, his lips pursing.

“You did something, Showalter,” Griffin said and he watched Billy’s smile drop of his face as his eyes widened just a little at hearing his last name. 

From his place next to Bruce, Robin cackled. “Uh oh,” he said. “Someone’s in trouble.”

Billy glared over Griffin’s shoulder at the other boy before he met Griffin’s eyes again, smiling bashfully. Guiltily, more like.

“Do what, Griff?” Billy asked nervously.

“Don’t give me that shit, Billy,” Griffin snapped as he leaned forwards. “I know what you did and now I want to hear it from you.”

“Deny,” Robin coughed in his hand, barely covering the word.

“Billy,” Griffin warned lowly, daring the other boy to lie into his face.

“Okay, fine!” Billy held up his hands in surrender. “I threw a baseball at Matt.”

Griffin blinked for a second at Billy. “You threw a baseball at Matt,” he repeated slowly.

“At full speed,” Billy informed him helpfully but unnecessarily.

“At his nose?”

“At his nose, yes.”

“It seems broken. 

“Yes, it is. There was so much blood and he screamed so loud, it was hilarious and-“

“Billy.” 

“Griffin.”

Griffin sighed exasperated and he placed two fingers on the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “Damn it, Billy, why?”

“He hurt you,” Billy’s eyes darkened.

“That’s not a reason. I’ve been hurt before so why does it matter?” Griffin pressed as he met Billy’s eyes again.

“What?! By who?” Billy whipped his head around, his eyes going over the people in the cafeteria.

“It doesn’t matter! The point is that you shouldn’t have done that,” Griffin told him firmly.

Vance scoffed out a laugh. “Says the guy who hits people with his skateboard.”

Griffin immediately noticed how the heads of the other boys snapped up at Vance’s words. “Stay out of it,” he hurriedly hissed at Vance before turning back to Billy. “Don’t fight my battles, got it?”

“No.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Billy smiled and ducked his head. “No.”

“You motherfu-“

~~~

It was one of the evenings that Griffin came home to an alive house. One of the rare evenings that his mom got off from work.

Griffin halted in the door as he warily watched the light that spilled out of the doorway of the living room at the end of the hall and he contemplated going back outside and just staying away from the house until his mom fell asleep.

‘Coward.’ The word echoed in Griffin’s head and suddenly he had closed the door behind him and laid his backpack and skateboard beneath the coat rack.

Griffin silently made his way to the doorway to peek his head around it. The living room and kitchen were connected and so the boy had a clear view of the dining table.

When Griffin saw the set table and a familiar bottle of wine sitting innocently on the table, he knew enough. It was going to be that kind of night.

Griffin stepped into the kitchen, his hands clenched behind his back as he walked closer to the table. “Hi mom,” he greeted his mom quietly.

Diane Stagg stood with her back towards her son, her mousy brown hair pulled back in a braid as she stirred the pot of soup on the stove. “Hi hon, how was school?” She barely spared him a glance as she called over her shoulder.

Griffin knew it was a question she didn’t actually want to hear the answer to. “Fine,” he didn’t elaborate further as he took a seat at his side of the table.

“Glad to hear,” she responded distractedly as she turned the stove off.

It was silent when his mom poured the soup into two bowls before bringing it over to the table, placing one in front of Griffin and one in front of herself.

It was silent when the cork got pulled out of the bottle but when his mom poured it into her glass, Griffin thinks the thunder he heard on the way home couldn’t have drowned the noise out as it kept repeating itself in his head, like a broken record. It was silent when they began to eat, the only sound being their spoons clinking against their bowls.

At some point, his mom picked up her wineglass, held delicately in the palm of her hand. Griffin could feel her eyes on him as she drank from it.

“You want to tell me how you got that bruise?” She nodded her head at Griffin’s face when he lifted his head.

“Just some kid, Billy already handled it,” Griffin said absentmindedly.

“Billy?” His mom questioned.

Griffin stilled. “Showalter,” he added for clarification.

His mom just hummed. “Who else?”

Griffin looked up from his plate for a second. “Uh- Finney Blake, Robin Arellano, Vance Hopper and Bruce Yamada.”

“Marlene’s kid?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” and she went back to eating her soup while Griffin stared at her.

“How’s work?” Griffin asked her.

“Fine.”

“You didn’t need to work tonight?” Griffin asked just to make some conversation, stirring his spoon through the soup.

“Not tonight,” his mom answered. “But over the next couple of weeks I’ll be picking up more shifts.”

Griffin stopped stirring to look at her. “Why?”

“A colleague of mine will be going on maternity leave,” Diane supplied. “I’m covering her shifts. I’ll leave money in the drawer.”

“Okay,” and that was it. Just okay. What else could it ever be?

They ate in silence after that.

After a long moment, Griffin cleared his throat. His dad’s been on his mind a lot, all this talk with Bruce and Vance has his mind preoccupied. It made him remember a certain date and one look at the calendar had made him feel a little ill.

“Dad’s date is coming up again,” he offered.

“Yes, Griffin, that’s kind of how years work,” his mom said, not looking at him.

Griffin tried to refrain himself from pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and sighing deeply. “Are we going to do something?”

“I have work, I can’t take time off,” his mom said monotonously as she reached for her wineglass again.

Griffin swears he wasn’t supposed to say the following words that came out of his mouth. “You can’t or you won’t?”

His mom’s glass halted on its way to her lips as her eyes snapped to his. Griffin’s heart pounded loud in his chest as he waited for something, anything.

His mom raised her glass to her lips and took a sip before placing it back down gently. “I won’t,” she said finally and she picked up her spoon again.

Griffin breathed out.

The silence that followed was stifling as they finished up dinner. His mom stacked their bowls when they finished and stood up to walk over to the sink.

Griffin couldn’t let it go just yet.

“You didn’t go last year, when it was a decade, and neither the year before that,” Griffin watched his mom lift the pan of the stove.

“Would you stop?” His mom told him lowly. “Let the past rest.”

“Mom, it will be eleven years this year,” Griffin protested quietly.

His mom dropped the pan with leftover soup in the sink, the action making a horrible sound as the leftover soup spilled over in the sink and over the counter.

“What brought this up?” She demanded as she whirled around to look at him, eyes wide and intense.

“Nothing, I-,” Griffin backtracked. “I’m sorry, it’s nothing, just forget I said anything.”

“Don’t ever bring this up again, do you understand me? Ever,” His mom stated.

Griffin stared at her bewildered. “Why not?”

“It’s in the past. He’s in the past,” she turned back to the sink again.

“You can’t just do that,” Griffin pressed and he stood up from his seat to stand next to her, a few steps away from her. “It’s not healthy.”

“Do not talk to me about healthy, Griffin Stagg,” his mom snapped as she aggressively scrubbed the pot.

Griffin looked at her, face conflicted before he stepped back. “I don’t even know what I was thinking,” he mumbled more to himself than to his mom.

“Let it go,” she said.

“What? Like you?” Griffin scoffed. Those were the wrong things to say.

His mom gripped his wrist tightly and Griffin couldn’t help but immediately notice that this was a far cry from the way Billy would hold him. This was harsh, unrelenting and meant to hurt, while Billy’s was gentle, always gentle, soft and a warm comfort.

“You are just like your father,” she hissed, her voice bitter. Griffin thinks that it’s supposed to mean something, that it’s supposed to mean something to him. “So stubborn.”

He’s heard spiels like this before but never in this way. His mom would always tell him from a distance with her sitting on the couch watching the television blankly late at night while he stood in the doorframe of the living room.

The audience’s laughter of his mom’s sitcoms playing on the tv always seemed to mock him on those nights, taunting and laughing at him. 

But this was something different. Something that has been stewing for a very long time. Griffin didn’t want to find out how much this one would hurt him.

“Let go,” he said quietly, his eyes going from her hand on his wrist to her face. She ignored him.

“Couldn’t you just look like me? Do you have any idea how hard it is to look at your face? To look at you and not break down?” His mom hissed.

“What is it then? Why won’t you look at me?” Griffin shot back heatedly. He knew damn well why now but he just needed to hear it from her.

“God, why are you like this? Quiet. Useless. A fucking disappointment,” His mom deflected. Griffin turned his head to the side, away from her. “It certainly didn’t come from your father,” she told him sharply.

Griffin’s head whipped back to look at her again. “Who? My dead dad, who has been dead for more than ten years? It must have come from you then,” Griffin said.

“You ungrateful little shit,” his mom looked angry now. “I’ve done everything for you, I raised you, I feed you and I keep a roof above your head, and I work my ass off for this? I come home to this?” She seethed.

“Barely! We both know you don’t have to work as much as you do,” Griffin told her. “You haven’t been here for me from the moment dad died,” his voice cracked mid sentence. “I know you don’t want to be here.”

“Smart just like your dad, aren’t you? Can you guess why as well?” She hissed at him.

“I know why. I just need you to say it to my face. So, tell me,” Griffin’s eyes hardened and he felt his lip trembling. “Tell me why.”

His mom considered him for a moment, her steely eyes roaming over his face and the hint of that sad expression came over her face before it got drowned out by one of anger. “You are just like your father, you talk like him, you act like him, you look like him.”

He fucking knew it.

“It’s not my fault that you choose to see him,” Griffin told her quietly.

She scoffed. “Choose? You think I want to see him? Look at you.”

“Exactly!” Griffin burst out. “Fucking look at me, mom. I don’t see dad when I look in the mirror, I see myself. Why can’t you see that? It’s like you’re refusing to see me! You took one look at me, saw something that reminded you of dad and now you can’t separate the two of us!”

“Enough,” his mom told him. Griffin could see a hint of recognition spark in her eyes and he knew then that his words gave her a pause, knew that she recognised the ferocity from somewhere, from someone.

Griffin lifted his own head in defiance while at the same time praying to anyone that would listen that she wouldn’t see the tears that were building up in his eyes.

“Mom. Let go,” Griffin said more quietly but firmly, he tugged on his wrist which only resulted in the grip tightening painfully.

His mom’s face twisted into something mean and Griffin just knew she was going to say something that would hurt him. “You have failed me as my child. It’s no wonder why people seem to leave you. They’ll leave you. You’ll fail them all.

Ding, ding, ding. Bingo. Right on the money.

Looked like she did actually know something about him after all. He knew exactly who she was talking about.

Griffin never felt like his mom and him had something in common. But maybe they did. It seemed that she also liked to fight her battles with words. Griffin figures he got that from her and he couldn’t have hated himself more in that moment if he’d tried.

Griffin’s face twisted in betrayal, tears now finally escaping his eyes. “Let go, mom!”

She tugged him forward harshly by the wrist, Griffin stumbling forward at the unexpected motion. He watched as his mom’s eyes searched his face, those same grey eyes that matched his own.

He has his mom’s eyes.

Griffin waited with bated breath and wide, watery eyes. After a moment, his mom scoffed and shoved his wrist back at him.

“Pathetic,” she whispered and without further words, she walked out of the kitchen and into the living room, dishes forgotten.

Griffin was rooted to the floor, couldn’t move. He heard the television turn on and only then did he move.

He needed to get out. Get out, get out, get out.

He backed away, his mind on autopilot as he hurriedly made his way out of the kitchen and to the hall. His hands trembled against the wall when he stumbled over his feet in his haste before he righted himself.

Griffin threw the door open and within the next second he stood outside, his back against the closed door as he tried to gulp in fresh, cool air while his clothes immediately got soaked by the heavy rain that Griffin hadn’t heard from inside.

His mom used to be different. She tried to be there for him, but then the years went by and she stopped trying. Griffin can’t blame her.

A slamming door here, a painful grab at his arm there or the familiar bite of her words cutting into his skin were the most he got from her these days.

Griffin used to like the nights that she was off from work. His mom would make dinner and they’d eat across from each other, his glass filled with water and his mom’s filled with wine.

Griffin didn’t used to mind the wine much at first. It loosened his mom’s tongue, made her smile easily and made her more open, dinners would be filled with conversation and reserved laughter.

But after some time, after more dinners that became rarer, Griffin tried to treasure them but he couldn’t. Not when he found out that the wine wasn’t just there to complement the food, but that it was his mom’s coping mechanism to sit with him and have dinner for him.

It made Griffin sick to his stomach that his mom needed a fucking drink to deal with him, something that numbs her enough to drag her through the night.

Griffin knows that his mom tries to make it seem like everything is okay with these dinners, but they stopped being okay the moment she pulled out the cork of that first bottle of wine. He didn’t know until now what was so wrong about him that his mom needed a glass of wine filled to the brim to deal with him.

Vance’s words made a lot of sense now.

Griffin hadn’t noticed until now where he was walking, but he quickly recognised the familiar path that led to the park. He shivered as his arms came up to hold his upper arms, rubbing his hands against them to regain some warmth.

Griffin was totally planning on just camping out in the open-air theatre that stood across from the playground, the theatre only being used in the summer when they’d put up plays from the drama club so it was empty now.

But as soon as he made the turn to walk into the park, he heard his name being called. Or at least Griffin thinks he did, it was hard to tell when the rain was pelting down around you. The call of his name again made its way to Griffin’s ears for real this time and he turned around to look at his surroundings.

A blue car was pulling over next to Griffin and he automatically took a step back. The window was rolled down and he was met with an all too familiar face.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing here?” Billy asked concerned, his eyes taking in Griffin’s wet, shivering form.

“Oh I just thought it was a nice evening to be outside, nothing more,” Griffin couldn’t help the sarcastic comment that spilled out of his mouth.

The corners of Billy’s mouth ticked up despite of himself. “You need a ride home?”

“No!” Griffin took another step back and Billy’s small smile immediately disappeared at the action. “No, thank you.”

“Okay, well, just get in the car then,” Billy told him gently.

“Oh no, that’s not necessary, I’ll be fine,” Griffin waved him off.

“Griffin, you’re not even wearing a jacket,” Billy pointed out worriedly.

“Billy, I’ll be fine,” Griffin repeated, stressing his words.

“Son, I’d rather not have you ending up in the hospital with a case of hypothermia,” Griffin hadn’t even noticed a man, presumably Billy’s dad, sitting in the driver’s side next to Billy.

“I second that,” Billy agreed. “So, come on.”

“I don’t-,” Griffin began.

“Please,” Billy pleaded.

Griffin got in the car.

The drive was silent, only for the radio filling the air and the rain hitting the windows, nobody spoke.

The radio changed from an upbeat song to the first familiar notes of a song that Griffin knew all too well and it had him sitting up immediately, an action that wasn’t missed by Billy, who met his eyes in the rear mirror. “What’s wrong, Griff?”

“Can you-,” Griffin swallowed around the beating of his heart in his throat. “Can you switch to a different channel?”

“You don’t like Bob Dylan?” Billy asked innocently.

“Billy, please,” and Billy must have heard something in his voice because Billy didn’t question him further as he switched the channels.

Griffin watched Billy and his dad exchange a few looks on the way but every time Billy met his eyes in the rear view mirror, he would just smile softly. Griffin felt the car driving up a curb and he looked out the window to see they’d arrived at Billy’s house.

Billy and his dad both opened their doors to get out but Griffin couldn’t make himself move. His door suddenly opened and there stood Billy, one of his arms holding his jacket above his head to shield himself from the rain. 

“Are you coming?” Billy asked softly.

“Won’t your parents mind?” Griffin questioned, still uncertain. 

“Dad made me text mom just now to tell her we have a guest, she said she didn’t mind,” Billy smiled at him and he grabbed Griffin’s hand to pull him carefully out of the car.

“But I-,” Griffin began to protest, his hand cold against Billy’s warm hand, and he ended up close to the taller boy to not get wet, both huddling under the jacket.

“Sweetheart, don’t worry about it,” Billy reassured, a comforting smile gracing his lips as he released Griffin’s hand to place it instead on Griffin’s lower back to gently push him towards his house. “I promise you, Griffin Stagg, they don’t mind,” Billy said and Griffin couldn’t help but let his lips quirk up just the tiniest bit at his full name. Griffin watched Billy’s face soften at it.

“Come on,” Billy urged and he guided him up the couple of stairs that led to the front door.

Billy’s mom met them at the door and Griffin could immediately see where Billy got his looks from, those same green eyes looked at him with warmth and curiosity. The woman let them pass before she closed the door behind them. Billy removed his jacket to hang it on the coatrack that stood next to the door.

“Hi mom,” Billy greeted with a smile as he toed his shoes off, Griffin quickly doing the same thing.

“Hi honey,” the woman smiled warmly at her son before her eyes shifted towards Griffin. “Who’s this?”

Billy grinned. “This is Griffin,” and he placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders to push him forward.

The woman smiled and she offered her hand to him. “Stacy Showalter,” she introduced herself.

Griffin cleared his throat. “Griffin Stagg, ma’am,” he introduced himself, accepting the hand the woman offered him to shake.

“Stagg?” Stacy mused as she pulled her hand back. “As in Lewis and Diane Stagg?”

Griffin froze under Billy’s hands, his shoulders hunching upwards, and he could feel the other boy’s eyes burning into his head. “Yes, ma’am,” he confirmed, sounding timid.

The woman’s eyes softened. “Go on then,” and she nodded at the staircase. “Get him something warm to drink, Billy,” she told her son when Griffin shivered.

Griffin send her a hesitant smile before he was pulled along by Billy and up the flight of stairs. They passed a few doors before they stopped before a room, the door already open and Griffin felt he got a look of Billy’s mind as he studied the room. He heard Billy’s small “be right back” before he focused back on the room.

Billy’s room was painted some kind of blue grey color, a twin sized bed was lining the wall on one side of the room while a desk and big bookcase stood at the other side by the window, an electric guitar sat in the corner. Posters from movies, artists and bands littered the walls, photographs of his parents and friends in the mix were strewn across the room, some in frames, some sticking out of the edge of Billy’s body length mirror.

Griffin walked further into the room to inspect it further. Billy’s bed was unmade, a familiar red leather jacket peeked out of Billy’s closet and an open book laid face down on the nightstand. The Little Prince Griffin read on the spine of the book and he smiled softly before he walked over to the desk.

Billy’s desk was mostly organised but a notebook laid open in the middle of the desk, a pen laying next to it and Griffin averted his eyes immediately from it to look at the various knickknacks the other boy had lying around.

His eyes shifted over the desk before shifting over to the window. A small, solar, plastic flowerpot with a lone flower sat on the window sill, the one that only moved if the sun was shining, effectively activating the thing. Griffin spared a glance outside and he was met with the sight of rain, still pelting down heavily.

“Here Griff,” Griffin heard behind him then before he felt a hand around his wrist and that was enough to get him moving.

Griffin whipped around to face Billy behind him and tugged his hand back as quick as a bullet while simultaneously taking a step back, his wrist cradled protectively to his chest.

“Woah, hey, it’s okay, just me,” Billy said and he held his hands in the air, also taking a step back, his smile now replaced by a frown of concern. “Just me,” the boy repeated in a softer tone.

Griffin released a breath he didn’t know he was holding and slowly let his arm fall back to his side. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Billy smiled reassuringly. “Here you go,” the boy handed him a set of new clothes.

“They might be little big, because of the-,” Billy held a hand up to his forehead and began to wave it above his and Griffin’s head. It took a second for Griffin to realise he was showing him the difference between their heights.

“Oh, fuck off,” Griffin griped while Billy laughed.

“The bathroom is just over there,” Billy pointed at a door across from his room when he calmed down.

“Okay,” Griffin walked to the door and opened it before he quickly slipped inside, the set of clothes clutched to his chest.

It didn’t take long for Griffin to peel his wet clothes off his body and change into the new ones. Billy was right in his sentiment, the grey sweatpants were too long at his legs and he had to roll them up so that he wouldn’t trip over them. It was much the same with the dark blue sweatshirt, the sleeves being too long but Griffin just pushed those to his wrists so they weren’t hanging over his hands.

Griffin quickly gathered his wet clothes in his arms before he opened the door and stepped back into Billy’s room, much more comfortable now.

“Is there somewhere I could leave these?” Griffin questioned as he looked down at the clothes in his hands.

When he didn’t immediately receive an answer, Griffin looked up. Billy was seated on his bed, already changed into comfortable clothes, the book that laid on his nightstand open in his hands but he wasn’t looking at the words, the boy was openly staring at Griffin with wide eyes.

When the moment stretched too long into silence, he shifted impatiently from foot to foot. “What?” He snapped finally. “Something wrong?”

Billy’s jaw clicked shut with an audible click and he stood from his bed, closing the book and putting it back on the nightstand. “No, no, nothing’s wrong,” he said hurriedly and it made Griffin look up at him suspiciously.

“You sure?” Griffin said when Billy’s eyes stared just a little too intense at his form decked in Billy’s clothes.

‘It must make a funny sight,’ Griffin thinks as he studied the taller boy in return.

Billy cleared his throat. “Absolutely,” he said way too cheerfully and he came closer to Griffin to take the clothes from him. “I’ll just hang these downstairs to dry.”

When Billy returned, he carried a steaming mug of something in each hand. Griffin watched from where he sat on Billy’s bed, back leaning against the wall behind him as he placed Billy’s book down, previously having browsed through it.

When Billy offered one of the mugs, Griffin reached for it to take it from his hand. Billy settled down on the bed before he scooted backwards to sit next to Griffin against the wall, their warm mugs cradled in their hands, slowly warming both of them up as they took careful sips of it.

“Are you okay?” Billy asked after a long moment of comfortable silence, the question made Griffin tense and he heard Billy backtrack. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

A lie lay ready on his tongue, prepared and good to go but something in Billy’s voice made him pause, made him look to the side to look at the other boy.

Billy was already looking at him, his head tilted back against the wall, his eyes gentle and earnest and when they locked eyes, he smiled softly.

There’s just something about Billy Showalter, something, something, something that Griffin still can’t figure out. It made Griffin lie to Billy in the bathroom at school but now it makes him want to spill his guts to the boy. It’s frustrating and it messes with Griffin’s head.

Having made up his mind for now, Griffin cleared his throat as he ducked his head to look at the mug in his hands, now resting on his crossed legged legs. “No, I’m not.”

Griffin looked back up at Billy, chancing a look at the boy. Billy just shot him a small reassuring smile. “Tell me about it,” he whispered the request.

“What- what do you know about me, Billy? Family wise?” Griffin asked him.

Billy’s face turned thoughtful. “Not a lot, sweetheart. I know your dad passed away when you were young and your mom works at the hospital here with Bruce’s mom,” the boy leaned forward to place his mug on his nightstand, Griffin following suit before resuming their positions back against the wall. 

Griffin nodded softly in acknowledgment. “I was there when my dad died. He had- uhm- he had something called ischemic heart disease. It means that not enough blood and oxygen reached his heart because of clogged blood vessels. He died a year after the diagnosis. I was five and in the room when it happened.”

“Jesus,” Griffin could hear Billy mutter from beside him and he couldn’t help the deprecating chuckle that escaped him.

“The song that played in the radio, you know, Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door? It was playing on the radio in the room when the machines he was hooked onto beeped,” Griffin explained.

“After that, my mom, she never really recovered from it,” Griffin continued. “She isn’t home very often. She picked up a lot of shifts over the years, I know she doesn’t want to be at home. I think she feels guilty that she couldn’t have done more.”

Griffin felt Billy grab his hand, enveloping his hand in his. “She’s home sometimes and whenever she is, we have dinner together.”

He could feel the moment when Billy began to realise something, his hand tensing around Griffin’s own hand. “Griffin, why were you outside?”

Griffin huffed out a laugh and he smiled small and sadly. “She changed over the years, we both did and not for the better.”

“Griffin,” Billy said and the way he said it made the breath hitch in Griffin’s throat.

“We had dinner tonight. I confirmed some truths, that’s all,” Griffin said.

“What kind of truths?” Billy asked carefully, his hand unconsciously tightening around the other boy’s hand.

Griffin couldn’t have stopped the watering of his eyes even if he’d tried as he thought back to the events of earlier that evening. “She hates me, Billy.”

“No, that can’t be right,” Billy sat up straight at that.

“It is,” Griffin told him. “She hates that I look exactly like my dad. It pains her to look at me, so she doesn’t.”

Billy just sat there, staring intently at the boy next to him, only when a tear escaped from Griffin’s eyes, did the boy move.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Billy whispered hurriedly. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I got you.”

Griffin felt a hand on his cheekbone, a thumb swiping gently just under his eyes, before he was enveloped into two all to familiar arms.

“Billy, I don’t know what to do, tell me what to do, please,” Griffin pleaded as he sank into Billy’s arms. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

“Oh Griffin,” Billy held him close. “This isn’t something for you to fix.”

“I have to,” Griffin protested.

“Then stop it,” Billy said.

“Billy, I can’t do that,” Griffin whispered brokenly.

And Billy’s heart ached. “Tell me why.”

“I don’t know how,” Griffin told him. “It’s familiar. I don’t know anything different.”

It was silent for a moment, Billy thinking Griffin’s words over. “Have you ever heard of the saying ‘We accept the love we think we deserve’? It’s from a movie I watched with Finney.”

Griffin’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Yeah, what about it?”

“You don’t know anything different because you don’t let yourself know anything different. You think it’s what you deserve,” Billy explained carefully.

“So?” Griffin replied almost defensively.

“So let me change that. I’ll fix it,” Billy told him.

Griffin pulled away from Billy’s arms to look the boy in the eyes. “You want- you want to fix it?”

Billy smiled. “If you’ll let me.”

Griffin tilted his head to the side as he watched Billy, the other boy mirroring him.

Trust was a delicate thing for Griffin. Something he gave freely but something he didn’t get in return. Griffin’s always been someone you can trust, he always holds it to himself to be the person others can’t be for him. He knows he puts it on himself, to be like this. He doesn’t regret it.

But everyone has a limit and Griffin is tired.

Billy saw the hesitation in Griffin’s eyes. “Just think it over. I’ll be here,” he told Griffin surely.

Griffin just nodded.

Billy pulled him back into his chest. A humming melody leaving his mouth, the sound vibrating under Griffin’s ear as his head rested against the boy’s chest.

“What are you humming?” Griffin asked softly after a long, quiet moment and he cringed from his hoarse voice but Billy didn’t seem to care, just swept a comforting hand down Griffin’s spine.

“A lullaby,” Billy answered. “My mom always sang it for me when I went to sleep.”

“It’s nice,” Griffin said softly. Billy only pressed a kiss to his head.

“Will you stay the night?” Billy asked after a moment.

Griffin really shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. But he knew when he’d get home that the house would be dark but not empty. He really couldn’t bear that right now. But he’s supposed to be pushing Billy away. Only the other boy just had something about him that kept pulling Griffin right back into his orbit.

“I’m going to stay, Griffin, I won’t leave,” Billy stated then so confidently that tears sprang into Griffin’s eyes, the boy hitting his fear right on the nail.

And how did Billy know that? How does he keep surprising Griffin with things he seems to know about him. It’s makes Griffin feel incredibly understood and at the same time it drives him up the wall.

“You don’t know that, Billy,” Griffin said weakly, pulling back again to look at him, tears escaping his eyes.

“I do,” Billy said firmly. “I have a feeling.”

“That feeling again?” Griffin asked bitterly, he rubbed a hand harshly under his eyes to get rid of his fallen tears, leaving a burning feeling behind. A hand gently took his wrist and guided it away from his face before there was a different hand swiping his tears away, much more gentler than Griffin had.

“I always get this feeling, when I look at you, when I’m around you,” Billy explained. “I don’t really know how to explain it but every time I look at you, I feel lighter. It’s familiar and unknown at the same time. It scares me but it does not scare me off.”

“It should, Billy. It’s clearly trying to tell you something,” Griffin sniffed as he unconsciously leaned into the hand on his face.

“I know it is,” Billy agreed easily. “Just haven’t yet discovered what it’s trying to tell me.”

Griffin could only stare at Billy, silently processing the words while the other boy stroked his cheekbone comfortably with his thumb.

“Okay,” Griffin decided.

Billy’s eyes widened in surprise. “Okay as in you’ll let me?”

Griffin nodded.

Billy pulled Griffin back into a hug so fast, Griffin’s chin knocked painfully against the boy’s shoulder. “Ow. Watch it,” his voice slightly muffled from where his face was pressed into Billy’s shoulder.

Billy just tightened his hold on him.

Griffin couldn’t hold back the manic giggle that escaped his mouth. “I’m thinking I’ll regret this. You’re crazy,” Griffin said eventually.

Billy pulled back to grin at him. “Yeah, crazy for you, Griffin Stagg.”

That brought a startled laugh out of Griffin and he ducked his head. “Lame,” he mumbled as he leaned back into Billy, his forehead resting against Billy’s chest, the other boy wrapping his arms around Griffin.

Griffin didn’t say much after that, just let Billy hug him close, let Billy pull him down with him to lay down, his head on Billy’s chest, his heartbeat a steady comfort against his ear.

It was already late at night but he knew Billy wasn’t asleep, Griffin could tell. Griffin wasn’t asleep either, he wanted to but he still had something to say.

“Billy?” Griffin whispered quietly.

Billy hummed in response, letting him know he heard him.

“Thank you,” Griffin whispered out into the dark.

It was quiet for a long moment and Griffin was at this point half asleep when he felt Billy’s arms tighten around him and a voice sounded above him.

“Yeah, of course, any time, sweetheart,” Billy whispered. “Any time.”