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“God, this is so fucking stupid,” Ben muttered through his clenched jaw, probably under the assumption that Ricky couldn’t hear him.
The school year had barely started, and yet Ricky had already managed to piss somebody off. It had become an unstoppable habit at that point. The grin that always made it look like he had a trick up his sleeve, the deliberate way he carried himself so he would almost come off more confident, the dramatic flair and charm. He had been determined to make a long lasting impression on people, to let one version of him live in their minds that they wouldn’t let go of, and he had certainly achieved that.
It had started out as a few teases. Ricky had interrupted his English class only a couple times, just seeing what kind of reactions he could get out of people, earning multiple giggles from his classmates and pained looks from his teacher, a grouchy old man named Mr. Wilkins. It was funny enough until the brown haired boy who sat in front of him had turned around with that glare of his, a clear indicator that he had already been pissed off enough.
The first thing Ricky noticed when he was being scolded—practically zoning out and not paying attention to what Ben was yelling at him for the entire time—was his eyes. The mesmerizing color of the soft hazel, flared with anger that he dismissed.
It wasn’t until he and Ben had actually gotten into a fully heated argument that he snapped out of it, after he had made a serious threat to fight him after class. He assumed that he wouldn’t actually live up to it since Mr. Wilkins had broken it up a second after Ben looked a little too insistent on fighting him, but the purple bruise blooming on his eye said otherwise.
Turns out Ben was more capable than he thought. He had approached him in the hallway, the same irritated expression on his face. Ricky had made an offhand comment about it— do I seriously piss you off that much, or do you just look that angry all the time?— which is what had earned him the punch in the face. In Ben’s words, he fucked around and found out, landing both of them in the principals office.
They had received a harrowing talk from their principal, PNG, including a bunch of what Ricky thought was nonsense about them having the potential to get along and that it was legal now, whatever that meant. He had made a compromise for the two of them, Ben in specific , to which Ricky giggled at before he was told to shut up by both him and PNG.
The compromise consisted of Ben tutoring Ricky in Math and Science, since he was doing well in English and History for reasons he was too embarrassed to explain to anyone. He had agreed, knowing that he didn’t really have anything better to do, and that he wouldn’t be taught shit, so it didn’t matter much. Sitting around in the library after school was better than being at home either way.
And so, he found himself following Ben through the library. It was mostly empty, since students didn’t have a lot of work at the beginning of the school year, but a few kids were out and about here and there.
Ricky had come up with a quick response to Ben’s little comment, “it’s not my fault you’ve got anger issues, Brookie. Besides, I didn’t really mean it like that. Even if you look like a debbie downer all the time, you’re still pretty.” He smirked, even if Ben wasn’t able to see it. Ben didn’t bother giving him the satisfaction of a retort, finding an empty table for the two of them to sit at. Ricky’s eyes followed the labels on the shelves, stopping for a second on a shelf labeled poetry, but pushing it away from his mind. He would have to come back some other time in a secret disguise.
He had noticed that the smell of the bookshelves was similar to how Ben smelled when he got the slightest hint of it when he was yelling in his face. Ricky assumed that he must’ve spent a lot of time there, considering he seemed to know his way around.
Ben was very observable—at least to him. Someone who watches others, but never notices when someone watches them. Ricky found it somewhat endearing. The way he kept his arms crossed like they were glued together, the earrings he saw him fiddling with during class before their argument, the buttons referencing various bands decorating his backpack. Ben was the kind of person Ricky wanted to examine, to get to know, even if he had blown the entire chance of that possibly happening.
Ben set his bag down by an empty chair, the area tucked away into the corner of the library with a large, circular window in a little nook meant for more comfortable reading. Ricky sat down beside him, immediately propping his shoes up on the table, dark red Converse with several doodles that came from class boredom. “So, pretty boy. What’re you gonna teach me?” He said, a smile curled on his lips.
“Probably nothing.” Ben kept his tone flat, crossing his arms over his chest.
Ricky narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “Hey, that’s not fair. You punched me in the face, I deserve to learn something.” Even if he didn’t actually care much—at least, that’s what he told himself—it would’ve been funny to see him attempt to actually teach anything.
Ben slumped back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling like it could give him an excuse to run out and never be in Ricky’s presence again. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this! I’m not even good at Math, why did they think I could teach this?” He yelled at no one in particular, gaining a shush from a student separated from them by a few bookshelves.
He straightened himself up, facing Ricky. “You don’t seriously think I’m gonna teach you anything, do you?”
Ricky only shrugged. “I didn’t expect it.”
“I mean, if you actually need any help, I could try… sort of.” Ben didn’t look pleased, even if he was the one offering. Ricky doubted that they would ever get anything anyway. “I don’t need a tutor, pretty boy. Neither of us want to be here, so why should we do the work? As long as they don’t see us beating each other to a pulp, I don’t think they’ll care if we get anything done.” He leaned forwards, voice dropping to an ominous whisper, “nobody’s watching us.”
“I’ve got stuff to work on, anyway. If you need anything serious ,” he emphasized, “I’ll be over there.” He pointed towards the window behind him, grabbing his bag off the ground and swinging it over his shoulder. He walked off without another word. Ricky blinked in the newfound silence, watching Ben like he was someone who didn’t have a care in the world. He probably would have preferred to be left alone, but Ricky was just too persistent to let him not be by himself.
Ricky found Ben in his own little spot, leaning against the window on the padded bench, his knees propped up with some kind of sketchpad against it. He had two earbuds in, connected to his phone next to him through their wires. Ricky sat down beside him, catching Ben’s attention by being a little too close to him, to the point where he could feel his bracelets pressing into his skin.
Ben grimaced at the touch. “Do you always follow people around like a lost puppy?” He said, not looking up. Ricky didn’t respond, having taken interest in the sketchpad in Ben’s lap. It was only a sketch of a few flowers, but it caught his attention. They didn’t have any color yet, but he could see that there was a wide variety of them from their shapes.
“I didn’t know you liked to draw.” Ricky wasn’t exactly surprised—Ben looked like the artist type. He hadn’t noticed before, but there were small, multicolored paint droplets that had dried on his flannel. They were faded, yet still there, clinging to him like they had just grown into his skin. Must happen a lot. Ben side-eyed him, “what, you wanna get to know me now?”
Ricky resisted blurting out an immediate yes.
“Well, if you’re supposed to be tutoring me, then I might as well.” He responded, his grin growing at every tease he threw at him. Ben didn’t bother snapping back, going back to his sketchbook and letting his pencil move across the smooth paper. Ricky watched eagerly, not caring that Ben had inched away from his arm.
There was an uncomfortable silence, a forced kind between two people who had no choice but to be together. Ricky could feel his fingers twitching out of boredom, wondering to himself of how he could get Ben to talk. He couldn’t stand being left in silence—it left him too much room to think.
He saw Ben’s hand hesitate, pausing his drawing and pressing the rubber end of the pencil against his chin in thought. He took a second to glance towards Ricky, eyes settling in his direction. His next words were something he never would have expected to come out of his mouth after everything that had been exchanged between them—“Do you want one of my earbuds?”
“What?” Ricky was honestly shocked by the offer—he had been under the impression that it would’ve taken much longer to be able to be privileged to have any form of kind gesture from him.
Ben reached towards his ear, not responding to Ricky’s exclamation, pulling out one of his earbuds and gesturing towards him to take it. Their hands brushed—only slightly, something that would’ve been missed with a single blink, but Ricky still felt his breath hitch from the coldness of Ben’s hands—before he placed it in his ear, trying to repress the racing beat of his heart.
He shifted closer to him so as to not tug on the wires, the faint music filling his ear, just low enough so Ben would’ve been able to hear him. It was The Cure, not a song he knew in specific, but the instrumental and voice was enough for him to recognize.
“What song is this?” He asked.
“ Just Like Heaven , by The Cure. It’s one of my favorites.” Ben didn’t look up from his sketchbook. “Cool…” Ricky nodded, trying his best to ignore the beads of sweat that had formed on his palms and the edge of nervousness in his voice. I was acting normal a second ago, why is this just happening now?
The sunlight from the window had hit Ben just right, showing off his faint freckles that dotted his skin, presumably still slightly tanned from the summer. It was almost like he was glowing, that someone with such a cold exterior could have a hidden warmth inside of him—the kind of warmth Ricky wanted to be able to wrap himself in, to know Ben all over. To know his secrets, to know all of his little hobbies, to remember the details that no one else would. It felt silly in the moment, but he couldn’t help feeling interested in the boy who he had gotten off on the wrong foot with almost immediately.
Ricky had only called Ben ‘pretty boy’ as a way to tease him, but it came to him that he really was beautiful.
He could feel his heart pounding in his ears, desperate to try and keep something going. “I’ve never really listened to The Cure, but they’re good. I really like My Chemical Romance… Fall Out Boy, stuff like that.”
Ben squinted at him, almost endearingly. “That isn’t surprising.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ricky glared in mock offense.
“The piercing, the hair, the skeleton shirt… you just look like that type of guy. It’s not a bad thing.” A light-hearted chuckle came from him, not with a smile, but something else untold lingering in his expression.
It hit him that he was getting a little too infatuated with Ben. The boy that he had left a horrible first impression on, someone who he had barely had a pleasant conversation with.
Fuck my stupid shitbird life.
Warming up to Ricky over the past few months was an impossible mission that Ben had somehow achieved.
It started out slowly—still bickering in the hallways, but being able to have somewhat pleasant conversations in after school lessons. Ben had grown uncomfortably used to Ricky’s presence, the constant texts, the turned down dates. Not that he minded have him around anymore, it had just been entirely unexpected to end up where they were.
Ricky had only asked him out a few times before he gave up. It was subtle, not like I'm madly in love with you , something casual. It was difficult to describe how Ben felt towards it—he had rejected him every time, yet something in his chest told him that maybe he should have given it a shot after Lola broke up with him after only a month and a half of going out.
He hadn’t asked Ricky about it yet, despite the nagging in his gut that told him that he needed to listen to his heart. It always felt like too much of something too little. He had never been in love before, but the feeling he got when he saw Ricky’s grin made him feel different. The way his heart skipped a beat at every laugh he let out, the shared glances and giggling during class—it all felt unfamiliarly warm.
He didn’t want to put a label on it, not yet. Out of fear, out of nervousness, he didn’t know. It was almost bittersweet, the feeling of potentially falling in love with someone yet not knowing what to do about it.
The feeling that Ricky gave him always told Ben that there was something more to their friendship that hadn’t clicked in his head yet.
It was one of the more quiet days after school, one without any sessions in the library. Ben was convinced that Ricky had just ticked him off over and over only for the purpose of seeing him again, yet he indulged in it anyway. It wasn’t like they needed excuses to hang out, but the idea of someone assuming that they had been enemies for the longest time was fun to entertain.
The two of them sat together on Ben’s bed, a light on overhead in the room with posters covering the majority of the wall space. A quiet record played in the background, one from Ben’s vast collection of vinyl that Ricky always loved to search through. They were lying down next to each other on their sides, Ben with his head resting on his massive Garfield plush that he had gotten a while back.
The topic of music or bands was common in their conversations, it being how they had become friends in the first place. Ricky ranted about My Chemical Romance, Ben ranted about The Beatles, they talked about their favorite albums and usually listened to music together whenever they did have their little study sessions. Somehow, their talk today had led to Ben asking about his musical talents–something that he didn’t have an ounce of regret for afterwards.
“I feel like being in a band could be fun, I’m pretty good at guitar.” Ricky propped himself up on one elbow, leaning his hand into his hair with his usual giddy smile across his face. He had his usual aura surrounding him, the band shirts, the arrangement of piercings dotted around his face and ears. Ben had grown used to staring at him, always trying to figure out what it was about him that made him see Ricky differently than everyone else.
“Have you ever considered starting one with your… goon gang?” Ben asked, staring up at him with a small smile on his face. The name of Ricky’s little group had never made any sense to him, as he never understood how he managed to handle the company of the kinds of people he hung out with, but he put up with it anyway.
Ricky chuckled lightly, “sort of. I don’t think they’d be as into as I am, but it’d be interesting.”
“Do you know how to sing?” Ben questioned. He didn’t have any intentions behind it at first, just something out of the blue. He knew that he himself had no talent when it came to singing, since Donna had told him in the past that his singing voice would make people’s ears bleed.
“I suppose…” Ricky scratched his chin with his free hand, raising one eyebrow like his expressions were somehow always animated. “I don’t really sing around other people, but I do it by myself sometimes. It just feels a little more awkward when I have an audience.”
Ben heard Ricky play guitar on occasion, most of the time just sending him videos and wanting to show off his skills, but he had never heard him sing before.
“I could listen to you sing. I wouldn’t judge you.” He said, absentmindedly staring at Ricky’s lips as he spoke—since the topic was singing, and he was thinking of his voice, of course—looking at the gleaming silver lip ring.
“I’d never sing just on my own,” Ricky shook his head, ”I feel like it’d just be too… quiet. I’d need a guitar.” Ben thought for a second, sudden desperation taking over his mind at the thought of being able to hear Ricky’s voice woven into a song. He had a momentary idea, a flash of inspiration coming from a place of desperation to get him to sing .
“…my dad has one. An electric guitar.”
Ricky sat up straight almost immediately, eyes having gone wide with dismay. “What?”
Despite barely knowing what he was talking about, Ben kept going, eager to get through to him. “He just keeps it around, I think he played when he was younger. My mom would sing with him and he would play guitar for her.”
“Huh…” Ricky’s eyes narrowed, telling Ben that he had an idea in mind. “Is one too much of an audience for you?” Ben teased, egging him on to try and maybe coax him into the thought through mild joking.
Ricky made direct eye contact with Ben, causing an off beat in his heart when he caught his blue eyes. “Are you doubting me?” There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice, but Ben shook his head to reassure him.
“I just wanna hear you sing.” He felt himself lean forward, subtle yet Ricky had noticed. He took another second to consider before he smirked—an unsaid confirmation of Ben’s offer. “Alright, where’s the guitar?”
He resisted getting Ricky back for every time he said up your ass and around the corner. “Give me a minute.” He said hurriedly before springing up from the bed. He had practically sprinted out of the room to go talk to his dad, who almost certainly would have no idea what he was on about.
—
There Ricky was, standing in the middle of Ben’s room, the black electric guitar plugged into the wall as he held it steadily with the strap around his shoulder. Ben waited, his phone put on his bedside table because Ricky insisted on him not having the ability to record in case he embarrassed himself. In reality, Ben only would’ve recorded to have the memory with him forever, but he obliged either way. He sat on his own bed, observing with patient eyes as Ricky attempted to try some warm ups before playing. “What are you gonna sing?” Ben asked, fiddling with the buttons on his flannel.
Ricky looked up at him, his wide grin having faded to an expression lined with concentration. “I was thinking Just Like Heaven. The one you showed me.”—Ben had a flicker of memory, back to the time where he was convinced that he would’ve hated the boy forever—”I know I’m not gonna mess up in front of you, because I’ve played this song a million times.”
Ben raised an eyebrow, slightly confused by the prospect. He hadn’t thought that Ricky would have practiced a song from a band he didn’t listen to. While the two of them did share similar music tastes, he didn’t know if Ricky could’ve been listening to things Ben recommended in his free time. “That song specifically? Why?”
A quick blush rose to Ricky’s face, his expression startled like he had accidentally slipped something off of his tongue that wasn’t meant to be exposed. “…not important,” he brushed off the topic with an awkward laugh, “just give me a sec.”
Ben waited patiently as Ricky seemed to collect himself, ignoring how flushed his face had been somehow. The thought behind the song still lingered in his mind, but he didn’t think much of it—it wasn’t a big deal.
“Nervous?” Ben quipped, trying to fill the silence with light teasing in his voice. “Nah, I’m gonna lock in. Just watch me.” Ricky gave him a wide grin along with a wink, straightening himself afterwards and taking a deep breath. It was almost like he was trying to prepare himself for a real performance, not just playing for Ben.
Maybe he was more intent on impressing him than Ben realized.
The silence was filled when Ricky began to play, hands trembling slightly at first before he seemed to gather himself. Ben had no idea how he managed to do it—how confident he was in himself at times, how he walked without a care in the world, how he didn’t fear things that Ben did. He watched as his fingers moved along the strings effortlessly, a tune he had memorized by heart apparently.
When Ricky started to sing , Ben was hit with the realization that it was the single most beautiful thing he had ever heard. His voice was hypnotic, as if it were to wrap around him and encompass Ben in all of its glory. Even with its tinge of stage fright, he could tell it came from somewhere genuine, from the soul. He could feel himself losing track of time, entranced in the scene as Ricky sung. Lyrics he had heard many times himself wormed their way into his brain, losing his focus.
Kissed her face and kissed her head
Dreamed of all the different ways
I had to make her glow
Ben could’ve sworn Ricky had hesitated when he said her— there was something off about his singing, something that Ben couldn’t put his finger on. Like it more so came from the deep in his heart, words that he would only play off as lyrics that he wanted to say himself so badly.
Or maybe it was all wishful thinking.
"Why are you so far away?", she said
"Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you
That I'm in love with you?”
His voice grew melancholy, lowering from the last line. Ben felt his throat close up, an itch unable to scratch from the way Ricky sang. The way the words somehow dug their way into his heart the way he would with the ones he used in his poems, like the ink had come to life and had been poured into his throat. Every word that he spoke or wrote came out so carefully crafted, almost delicate but with Ricky’s own little spin to it.
You’re just like a dream.
He had never seen Ricky the way he saw him now. At least, he hadn’t noticed it as much the other times. The way everything he did was so effortlessly beautiful, the way his laugh had become a permanent loop in Ben’s head, how Ricky’s expressions always softened around him.
You
Soft and lonely
Ben had never expected that Ricky would’ve become such a big part of his life. A light in the darkness, something that brought him out of the depression that he thought that he would’ve been stuck in forever. Ricky had been his guiding hand out of the hole that would’ve dragged him down into hell. He had always been so gentle with Ben, not prying anything out of him and knowing when to stop teasing or making dumb jokes—and no matter where he was, he always made things better.
You
Lost and Lonely
The more he thought about Ricky, the more he found himself disoriented in the dream that was the boy in front of him.
Just like heaven.
Ben hadn’t even noticed that he had stopped playing until he spoke—nor that he had been staring at Ricky the entire time.
“What do you think?” He asked, a sheepish face from his faltering mask of confidence. Ben felt himself snap out of his trance of adoration, straightening himself up and clearing his throat. “It was really nice. You’re a good singer.” Ricky grinned proudly, dimples showing, the one Ben always found himself noticing and including in his endless sketches. “Thanks, Brookie.” Ben returned his smile, one he didn’t normally show to anyone else. “You know, I thought you didn’t listen to The Cure,” he pointed out, his voice having a tinge of curiosity behind it.
“I have been, since you sorta introduced me to them,” Ricky said, voice becoming gradually gentler as he spoke, “I only learned Just Like Heaven specifically because I knew it was your favorite.”
Ben was caught completely off guard by his words.
Ricky had been way too casual about what he had just said. He had learned Ben’s favorite song—which connected the dots in his brain, answering his question from earlier about why he had played the song over and over again. He felt the tick in his heart once again, rapidly beating in his chest. The kind he got whenever Ricky showed how sweet he could be, what laid behind his mask of quick jokes and brainrot—a soft, even romantic soul. The kind that made his palms sweat and made him impossibly nervous, even if he was used to being cool around Ricky.
“You learned it for me ?” Ben’s mouth hung open, not being able to process how Ricky could have just said something like it was the kind of thing he did for just anyone. A voice in the back of his head told him that he was just being delusional, but even if it was all fantasy, he wanted to indulge in the moment more than anything.
Ricky looked at him, more confused than anything else, but still smiling. “Yeah, why’s that so surprising?”
“It’s—um—just didn’t really think you’d do something like that. I don’t know.” He felt the words stumble out of his throat, mouth parted awkwardly as he stared into Ricky’s eyes, the soft sky blue working its way into his soul.
“Well, I’ve never done it for anyone else before,” Ricky had an undeniable blush running across his face now, his tone hurried like he might slip up on something. “I thought it’d be something special, for… you.”
That was what did it for Ben, to the point where he couldn’t even get out another sentence from the shock.
He knew that he had never been in love before. The way Donna described the feeling, the way Brady always talked about her like she was the single most special thing in the world, the way Stuart always followed Heather’s every word, he never understood any of it. But looking at Ricky, with that smirk plastered on his face—along with the blush that had now tinted ears bright red—and guitar in hand, Ben felt something inside of his heart tell him that he might now know what they had been talking about all those times.