Work Text:
One: Desktop Wall Paper
Twelve-year-olds scramble as they dig into their heavy oversized backpacks, searching for their freshly bought physics textbooks.
It’s the first day of secondary school, and they’re all lined up outside the physics classroom. Eyes swirl with wonder— What experiments will they do this year? Egg drop tests? New difficult formulas and calculations?
When the clock strikes 10 AM, the door opens to reveal a towering man. Stark white hair in a too-tight dress shirt. His eyes are different colours, one black, one striking red, a scar running through it— with a mask covering half his face.
“Morning. Sit wherever you want, and make sure you have your pencil case.” He grumbles a little bit, gesturing to the small kids.
As the classroom fills up, the kids tremble in their seats.
“So.” The man goes, his eyes narrowing. His voice has the sharpness of a boot camp instructor. Suddenly, his tone is completely jarring— light and playful. “Hello! Welcome to Secondary school. I’m Mr. Slab. I like physics. Let’s get started.”
The students glance at each other, confused. Mr Slab was strange. He greatly contrasted Mr. Goodtime’s bubbly and mischievous attitude in design technology, and Ms. Tay’s kind demeanour during her introduction in PE.
The physics classroom too… a little bare bones, a little undecorated. It’s cold white walls closing in. While all the other classrooms were cozily decorated.
But something about Mr. Slab… It's funnily off. While his tone is friendly, the students still feel a mysterious yet terrifying aura.
Nobody dares to speak a word, raise a sound in the presence of Mr. Slab. The only thing that can be heard is the whirring of the projector and the click of his mouse.
And suddenly—a burst of colour?!
The projected image on the screen is so colourful it hurts their eyes— Bright greens in every shade with cute font and adorable decor. And to the side…
“Wait… I know him!” A boy squeaks out. “Isn’t that Bdouble O?! Bdubs!”
The famed legendary idol? He was everywhere! Billboards, posters, movies, advertisements…You get the gist. His bubbly and refreshing blunt personality captured everyone’s hearts.
“Oh! My sister loves him so much!”
“So does my brother! He collects all his merch. I’m scared of his room now…”
“My mother says he’s really cute! She told me he’s been in her favourite fashion magazine more times than she can count!”
As the class erupts into murmurs and excited mumbles, Mr. Slab quickly clicks open his PowerPoint presentation, covering the idol’s face on his computer background.
“Now, settle down. Bdubs is a great idol. Let’s start with Welcome to Year Seven Physics, shall we?”
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“So, Brandon, how was your first day of secondary school?” His mother asks him. Brandon stares at his plate, smiling ear to ear as he picks up a piece of broccoli.
“It was so fun! I made some friends, and we played some video games during lunch! My teachers are really nice too— Oh! Bea! Do you know who Mr. Slab is??”
“Of course I do!” His sister, Bea, laughs. She’s been at this school much longer than him. “I’ve never had him, but Sophia has! She says he’s really silly even though he looks so scary. He lets them eat snacks in the lab if they’re writing their reports.”
“That doesn’t sound very sanitary.” Winces their dad.
“He keeps the lab very clean! Snacks only when no chemicals or experiments are happening. Plus he’s just a physics and computer teacher. So not much chemical use in the first place. Anyways, why do you ask, Brandon?”
“Nothing! He’s just a really big fan of Bdubs!”
“…” Bea drops her fork onto the dinner table. “He told you that?”
“No…? We saw it on his laptop screen— just a big graphic of Bdubs—“
“This man never talks about his life— And Bdubs?! Are you kidding me?! Is he also a mossling?!”
“A mossling?!” Their dad exclaims. “What on earth is that?”
“Shhh, Dad, you’re just old. A mossling is what Bea is— Bdubs’ crazy loyal fanbase.”
“Yeah, Dad! Oh my god, Brandon— I can’t believe the Mr. Slab— the crazy secretive one— he’s a mossling?! I’ll need to tell my friends, oh my god, maybe he’ll join our fan club!”
“Kids…” their dad stares at this exchange, muttering under his breath. “I’m so confused.”
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Two: Zoom Class
A bad weather day. You’d think being snowed in meant Christmas movies, hot chocolate, and fun, right? Nope!
Not even a day off, nope,e not at all. Students groggily sigh as they log onto their laptops and open the application that is Zoom.
Well, at least they could slack off and game with their friends. Not like the teachers will ever find out. The Roblox app looked very tempting right now.
As they’re all led to Mr. Slab’s waiting room, the Year nines stare at their screens, bored out of their mind. Some are texting their friends on Instagram, Discord, and the like, making plans after their digital school day. Some have given in to the temptation, already gaming away, praying that Mr Slab wouldn’t notice why they looked so unreasonably focused on their laptops.
Well, focus was definitely present when Mr. Slab finally—Finally— Entered the Zoom meeting room still in his pyjamas and mask…fifteen minutes late.
“Hello everybody, sorry for my lateness today.”
But said focus was not on him—No— it was on the most jarring, shocking, earth-shattering thing they’ve ever seen.
“My husband was upset that his electric kettle was broken, so I had to fix it up as soon as possible. He cannot live without his tea.” Mr. Slab laughs, oblivious to the shock of his entire class.
Behind the man stood a giant colourful poster— possibly bigger than the standard A3 posters— of the Idol Bdouble O. An extremely famous and limited-edition lottery-based poster, made to promote his iconic TV show, Building with Bdubs. Where the Idol would do multiple arts and crafts on Sunday television for everyone to enjoy.
Not only that— Was Mr. Slab rich?! The shelves placed next to the giant poster looked like those walk-in closets for the ultra—wealthy— you know, the ones with the lights installed inside to display designer bags—-
Except—
It was full of Bdubs merchandise. Multiple pins, plushies, figures, memorabilia— so many light sticks it made their heads spin to even start counting—all meticulously cared for. What in the heck was going on?!
Was that… a framed T-shirt Bdubs’ face?!
“—Anyways, since it’s online school today, a reminder to go get your snacks! We’ll take it chill today, and have a small revision session before I let you guys go early to enjoy some hot cocoa.”
Nobody could even move— or speak! The ever-mysterious physics teacher— was this what his room looked like?! It was like opening the freaking door to Narnia!
Mr…. Slab. A Bdubs fan.
No games were played during the online lesson. Nothing was learned either. The entire class of thirteen-year-olds sat in their bedrooms, staring dumbfoundedly at the window of their physics teacher.
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His bedroom door slams open with a bang, jumping out of his own skin.
“WILL YOU KNOCK?!”
“Shut up!” His little brother, Alex, teases,s stomping his way through Peter’s room. Alex quickly glances to his large bookshelf full of merchandise.
“I finally found someone more obsessed with Bdubs than you.”
“Huh?! What’s that supposed to mean?!” He exclaims, staring down at his little brother. “I’m the best Mossling to ever Mossling!” His computer screen glows green behind him as he laughs.
“Well…it’s Mr. Slab.”
“Pssssh.” Peter scoffs. Everyone knew that Mr. Slab liked the idol. Even while he kept his personal and work life separate, he was known to slip up on this particular interest a couple of times. Feeding his class fun facts and referencing Bdubs often. But surely he wasn’t as bad as himself. “You’re lying, Mr. Slab’s not as bad as me.”
“His entire room at home was plastered with Bdubs merch.”
“What?”
“HIS ENTIRE ROOM AT HOME WAS PLASTERED WITH BDUBS MERCH!”
“I heard you the first time!! How would you know?!”
“Zoom class today! I saw it! Ask people in my class, they saw it too! Nobody was able to concentrate because everyone was trying to count how many light sticks the man had! Which to answer that question—one too many!”
“Jeebus… You’re not joking?”
“No! And right behind him is the poster you really want from Bdubs’ show, the one that resold for thousands of dollars on eBay!”
“… You’re bluffing.”
“I’m not! Ask like… Taylor or whatever! Isn’t she Emma’s sister? She’s in my class, and she saw this today!”
“Yeah—“ Peter stares at his laptop with a thousand hard stares. No way the Mr. Slab— the one who possibly had a past working for the government, a guy who barely disclosed anything about himself, be that big of a cutesy mossling.
“No way… there can’t be… No way…”
“Uh… Bro? Are you good?”
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Three: Lunch time conversation
“Hi Ms. Tay!” A girl calls out to Ms. Tay, the resident PE teacher. “Have you seen Mr. Slab?”
“Hello Elysia! Yes, I think he’s in his classroom. Why, what’s up?” The ginger-haired teacher smiles back, clipboard in her hand.
“I just need to talk to him about my lab report, that’s all.”
“Sounds great! Good luck with your lab report!”
Elysia smiles, waving off the friendly PE teacher before climbing up the stairs to the 6th floor, where
All the labs were. She quickly runs down the hall, desperate to make the most of her time so that she can skedaddle off to lunch ASAP.
Before she could knock, she peered through the open classroom door. Was that Mr. Fan? The biology teacher sitting with Mr. Slab?
“… So anyways, as I was saying. Etho, remember the time you’d always leave so early from college— We had group projects!”
… Wait— What? Was this Mr. Slab lore?
She better be quiet! Oh god, all her friends will be so interested in this! Rumours are always spreading about if the ever-mysterious Mr. Slab— based on tidbits from other teachers— Especially Mr. Fan— Rumour has it, Mr. Slab used to work in the government, in top-secret divisions too!
Others say that he was a scientist for a private company, and even more people say that he was part of the secret service— doing cool spy missions across the globe.
This was a golden opportunity to pry!
So she stands quietly by the door, ears pressed to it. Body hidden as she listens in.
“Of course I did. I needed to catch Survival of the Fittest man! Bdubs was on, okay? I needed to support him— If I could, I would have even been in the studio.”
Wait… Bdubs— well, people did say that Mr. Slab did love the idol. He was definitely a mossling— that much is confirmed by his computer Home Screen.
“That old reality survival show? Well, that was when Bdubs’ agency made him wear that silly red bandana over his head all the time, right? Branded him as a natural rebel— Same cutesy shit though.”
“That bandana was not silly." Woah— What a tone! Like Mr. Slab was going to die on this hill. “He looked fantastic. He looks fantastic in everything, thank you very much.”
“Etho, even Doc thought it was silly— and that man would just throw on a lab coat and call it fashion! That one punk photoshoot they did of him when we were in college looked so strange that his agency finally decided to retire that bandana— I know you are his biggest fan, but you cannot say that wasn’t silly.”
“… You’re wrong—so wrong, Cub— Not his best, but still cute, sure. It is not silly.” Mr. Slab hisses behind his mask, as Mr. Fan rolls his eyes affectionately, poking at his lunch as he raises his eyebrow.
“Etho, why is it that we can agree to build a freaking nuclear reactor in my dorm yard, accidentally writing a paper on radar-absorbent material coatings and bribing a guy from the government to finish our new research paper because said accidental research paper was confiscated by said government, but we can’t agree on Bdubs’ fashion choices?”
“… Beats me.” Mr. Slab shrugs. “I’m a day one fan, and he’s beautiful in chainmail. … what do the kids say? ‘I glaze’ everything he does?”
“… Never do that again. Cleo was right, you’re washed up as hell.”
A laugh almost escaped Elysia’s lips as she watched Mr. Slab deflate like a sad fox kit. She could barely tell the pout behind his mask.
“Who am I kidding…. At least my husband doesn’t think I’m washed up…. I think.”
“Your husband will say that everything you do is perfect. He argued for you at the dinner table when Cleo said that.”
“… Totally unrelated, but how’s our fellow intelligence agent doing? Still spying on us?”
…what?
“Oh yeah.” Mr. Fan munches on his salad. “He’s still here. He won’t do much, though; those Bdubs concert tickets come in handy. The government is still terrified of us”
“I know, right! Anyways….”
What the heck did she just hear?!
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“Hey Elysia!” Her friend Sophia runs up towards her by the school gates, ready to walk home together. “What’s up with you? You look troubled.”
Elysia scrunches her nose and fidgets with the hem of her dress as she walks. “I heard something strange about Mr. Slab today….”
“Ha! Everything’s strange about that man! He’s goofy and funny, but nobody actually knows anything.” Sophia laughs as they walk past the hordes of students desperate to get home.
“Yeah… that’s the issue.” Elysia points towards a suspicious black car, parked in front of the school, with a man in casual wear and a badge sitting inside, staring intently out the tinted car windows. “Do you notice how this car has been here since… forever?”
“It wasn’t here until six years ago, but yeah, now that I think about it, it’s been strange.”
“I think it’s the government .”
“WHAT?!?!”
“SHHHH QUIET DOWN.” Elysia hisses behind her teeth, dragging Sophia away from said car and running down the street. “I think Slab and Fan used to work for them or something… they said something about intelligence monitoring them or something.”
“Pshhh. No way… I mean I see Mr. Fan working for the government. He’s always been obsessed with crazy experiments that I’m pretty sure classify as war crimes and more. But Mr. Slab? Really?”
“That’s what I heard during lunch.”
“That’s why you were gone so long? Wow. Okay, I see. I’m too terrified to continue this conversation. What else did you hear?”
“That Mr. Slab is a really huge fan of Bdubs. He argued with Mr. Fan over the fact that Bdubs was cute in everything!”
“… I knew there had been rumours, but I didn’t peg them to be true. I mean, I have to agree with Mr. Slab, Bdubs is really cute.”
“He really is! Say, are you going to his concert?”
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Four: Sport’s Day Debate
The stands are abuzz; everyone’s voice is drowned out by chatter and chants for their competing athletes. It was the School’s annual sports day, the reincarnation of pure hell for some, and the best day ever for others who like the heat and sports.
While many students had skipped school, that didn’t make the atmosphere of the event any less lively and hectic. Year Sevens were screaming for their house in the front, while at the back sat the Year Thirteens who brought their handheld controllers or laptops to game and work on upcoming assignments.
Ms. Tay and the PE department were in charge of this event, calling out the names of the students to participate in races, long jumps, javelin, discus, you know the works. Some teachers looked elated to be here, like Mr. Goodtimes singing his heart out with Mr. Ren (Well, his last name was Lupine, but everyone preferred Mr. Ren.). Others… Not so much.
Case in point, Mr. Slab. His long body draped against one of those shitty plastic chairs, near the front. His face and pale skin, flushed from overheating as sweat trickles down, his hair tied up in a low messy bun. Despite this— he refuses to take off his mask.
He had already been wearing a T-shirt and cooling technology under shirts! In his hand, a fan, and in another a cola— yet the man still was dying.
“Jesus, Etho.” Ms. Symmetry sighs, shuffling into the seat next to him. “You look like you’re dying.”
“I ammmmmm….” The physics teacher whines like a sad kit. “The heat is killing me.”
“Come on! It’s not that hot!”
“False, I am dying. I’m dying. It’s really hot. Tell my husband I love him.” Mr. Slab groans, earning a few giggles in the front row. “I don’t think I’ll survive to even DJ later.”
She gives him a smack behind the head, causing even more giggles to erupt in the front few rows. “You always make it to DJing. Please, you, out of all people, give up the chance to blast Bdubs’ music?”
The man goes silent for a while. “Yeah, you’re right. I need to survive for at least five more minutes.”
Well, he didn’t have to wait that long; soon enough, another teacher calls him over to control the playlist, and Mr. Slab happily jumps out of his seat.
And suddenly the stands are filled with Bdubs’ newest song, Running out of time. It’s gone super viral on social media recently, its cutesy lyrics and sweet romantic message being refreshing in today’s music scene.
It’s clear that everyone is enjoying it; some students bopping along to the lyrics, some doing a little celebratory dance while they continued to chat with their friends or watch the event, and a group of boys was even scream singing the lyrics at the top of their lungs.
But as Etho was walking up the stands to be somewhere cooler with less sunshine, he overheard this in the Year 11 stands.
“I mean… He is famous and all that, but I don’t really see the appeal? I think he’s overrated.” A boy says, making Etho’s eyes widen bigger than saucers.
“Um. Jack…” one of the students next to him taps on the boy’s shoulder. “Behind you.”
The student almost jumps out of his skin as he sees the fuming teacher behind him— don’t get anyone wrong, but while Mr. Slab looked intimidating enough with his red eye, scar, mask, and scrunched-up brow— he looked even more terrifying now, radiating ‘you’re wrong’ energy so intently.
“You’re wrong.” He simply says, arms crossed across his chest. “Bdubs is not overrated; in fact, I believe he is underrated.”
Mr. Slab, the usual chill physics teacher who allowed snacks in his lab and didn’t care much about late assignments— arguing with a student over an idol?
“His songs are everywhere! They’re not that special, Mr. Slab; it’s just the common message about cute romance and self-determination and all that jazz.” Jack continues, putting his foot down on his stance as the rest of the row crows the two like an interesting TV show.
“Okay, them being everywhere is proof that he’s not overrated and that the general public enjoys his songs. And those messages are needed in life; he just does it nicely— and beautifully through his medium.”
“Okay, but why do they feel the need to plaster his image everywhere? I’m sick of the guy; he’s on every billboard, advertisement, music video and TV show! Can’t we have more variety?”
“Ooooohhhh….” The crowd surrounding the two goes as they watch Mr. Slab’s hand clutch against his arm.
“Don’t be mean to Bdubs! A lesson in business is that this is classic supply and demand. He is demanded by his fans, so that his agency will supply.”
“Respectfully, Mr. Slab, you sound like one of those Mosslings on social media.”
“I am the mossling—“
“Oooooohhhhhh….”
“The day one mossling— I was with him since the day he started his career and debuted with the Clockers; I was at their very first concert.” He points over to Mr. Goodtimes. “Ask him, he’ll tell you I met them backstage.”
Right… Mr. Goodtimes knew Bdubs a long time ago, as he used to be an Idol before he retired to be a teacher. The crowd hums in interest, peering into this argument.
“So what, I just had an opinion. I want to see other celebrities or idols or singers.”
“Well, I respect your opinion, first of all.” Hums Mr. Slab, a laugh in his voice. “But your opinion is wrong. How would you feel if your girlfriend was insulted like that?”
“What?”
“How would you feel if your girlfriend was insulted like that?”
“I don’t have one; how would I know— and plus what does that have to do with this conversation?”
“Checks out.” Mr. Slab retorts as the crowd lets out a laugh. “Okay, Boyfriend then? Hypothetically, if you had one.”
“I’d be pretty upset— but what does this have to do with Bdubs?”
Mr. Slab just shrugs, tucking his hands back into the pockets of his khaki shorts. “Everything and nothing. I need to get back to monitoring the stalls. You guys make sure his comments are actually accurate next time.”
As he moves through the crowd, Jack is left there stunned and incredibly confused.
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“The heck did he mean ‘if your girlfriend was insulted like that? '” Jack exclaims, confused and confounded. “How did that have anything to do with Bdubs?!”
“I don’t know, man, it makes sense I guess. Rumour has it Slab’s a huge Mossling, so I guess it’s like a celebrity crush thing?”
“Yeah, but Girlfriend?! Boyfriend? Come on, he’s not even dating Bdubs so why does that matter?”
“Beats me, I’m just going to enjoy this music.”
“Hmm… That man is so strange.”
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Five: Bdubs Concert
After carpooling together to the concert venue, Hermit Secondary’s local Year Twelve idol fan club excitedly headed into line— it was the big night!
Decked out in their green outfits, best merch and cutest Itabags, the fan club excitedly waits in line to be seated for BDouble O’s concert. The tickets were so hard to get, holy crap, but they all managed to get one! What a miracle.
“You think we’ll be able to see him well?” Bea exclaims, waving her green lightstick excitedly as they walk past hordes of people. “Eee! I can’t wait! I’ve never been to such a concert before!”
“Me too! I’m really hoping we’ll get in line for the fan sign after this event. I really want him to sign my t-shirt.” Peter sighs as he takes a seat with his friends, staring out, anticipatingly onto the stage. The seats were good— a clear view of the stage, where you could see Bdubs performing nicely but not close enough you’d have to crane your neck uncomfortably. “Isn’t he going to recreate his courtroom music video? I saw the promo videos— he looks awesome as a judge!”
“That video was old, but he said he brought it back for nostalgia.” Laughs Emma. “It was a Clockers music video, right? God, that must have been ages ago!”
“I’ve been rewatching it a million times to see if I can spot any Easter eggs on set.”
“I’m really hoping he’ll bring out his chain mail knight inspired concept— the fairytale castle album with the Clockers was awesome!” Dylan, another member of the fan club, laughs, whipping out his medieval-inspired itabag, complete with chain and fake moss decorations. In the center sat cute photo cards of all the Clockers in their best fantasy idol costumes.
“Really? I think he looked the cutest in his God on Earth album! I’d never thought anyone would make glowstone’s texture look good on an outfit— and those gold tones complement him so well. I don’t know about the Clockers— they’re really good, but it’s still jarring to me that Mr. Goodtimes is now our teacher.”
“Wait, guys— look over there—“ Emma gasps, pointing at a group of adults a few rows down.
Sure enough, familiar tuft white hair with a bandana could be spotted in said group, surrounded by— was that Mr. Fan? Mr Goodtimes?! Ms. Tay? Mr. Ren?
While the rest of the entourage sported normal amounts of Bdubs memorabilia, casual fans, light sticks, and pins on their green shirts— they were highly contrasted by the one and only, Mr. Slab.
“Holy crap, my brother was right.” Peter’s thousand-yard stare, terrifying his friends.
Decked out in full Bdubs merch from head to toe. On his back, a giant graphic of Bdubs winking— he’s wearing one of those robes that extreme Idol fans wear! Not only that, next to his face, he carries two bags with him, a giant green and gold ita bag, big enough to fit two big laptops in each.
Peter squints his eyes— no way— how did Mr. Slab get so many of the same Bdubs chainmail pins?! EBay? Vinted? Heck— even Mercari?! On said bags hung a million different Bdubs plushies— teddies, nuis, chibi, flat loafer plushies, all in multiples, dangling by his side. Some in plastic protector displays, some without
He turns around to say something to Mr. Goodtimes; Mr. Goodtimes laughs. And only then does the fan club spot the most shocking thing of all.
He’s holding three lightsticks in his right hand, while his left sports three Oshi-fans, all decorated nicely with ruffles and each a different theme from Bdubs’ albums and shows.
Safe to say, the fan club had their jaws on the floor.
“Dude— do… do we go say hi?” Mouths Peter, hiding his face behind his own fan.
“No! Are you stupid?! This is like— talking to a teacher in public is like the most embarrassing thing ever!” Squeaks Emma. “Besides— Looks like my sister was right— he’s a mega fan.”
“Huh. I knew there were rumours circulating that Mr. Slab was a mossling— and I believed them! But I didn’t know he was this… big of one?” Bea mouths. “Once, my brother said his laptop desktop was Bdubs.”
“Jeez, I knew I had a lot of pins— But Mr. Slab? He’s on a whole ‘nother level.” Dylan whispers, eyes widening.
“The concert is about to start. Please head to your seats. Flash photography is not allowed. Please turn on your lightsticks at allocated times. Thank you for coming!” A bright announcer’s voice fills the dome venue, as the fan club squeals excitedly.
“Okay— Mr. Slab mystery later!” Cheers Bea. “Bdubs first!”
“Yeah!”
As the idol steps on stage, in his very elaborate plus strange slash somehow cute judge outfit, microphone attached to his ear, the crowd goes wild.
“Welcome everybody!”
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“Aw, man! That was freaking awesome!” Dylan cheers, smiling ear to ear. The group shuffles out the hordes desperate to make it to the meet and greet event— which they all miraculously got tickets for!
“C’mon! We gotta go! I’m so scared the line will be full!” Calls Emma, already ahead of the group, hot on her heels.
“Okay! Okay! We’re coming!”
When theymadee it there the line was long but not too long. They were lucky! They made it fairly early, so they didn’t have to wait too much to see their favourite idol.
“Hmmm… Do you think he’ll sign my ‘You’ll speak when spoken to!’ T-shirt?” Hums Dylan as everyone laughs at the iconic line.
“I want him to sign his snail plushie! They’re so cute—“
“Nice to see you again, Etho!” A sweet boyish voice calls, all the way from the front of the line, capturing their attention. Sat there was the one and only— the Idol, Bdouble O. They all gasped.
Bdubs, the idol. Stars twinkling in his eyes, grin beautifully large. Smiled— up at their physics teacher hordes before them. Shaking his hand. “My favourite fan!”
“Hah! You know me so well.” Did Slab freaking— Okay, they were pretty sure he winked, even from an angle so far away. “Great job tonight, as always.” And the man laughs! Laughs under his mask!
“I always need to perform perfectly with my biggest fan in the crowd!” The idol snaps back playfully, giving him a flirty push on his arm. Mr. Slab’s smile was so large, even they could see it from miles under his mask.
“Right, what do you need me to sign?”
“Everything.” The man laughs, handing over his bag, fans, and robe.
“E-Everything?!—“ before that Bdubs whispers something that makes Mr. Slab laugh even harder.
“What? You too chicken to do it?—“ Why was their physics teacher so casual with one of the biggest idols ever?! “C’mon Dubs—“
Dubs?!
“Beat your old record, or is signing things too hard for you now?”
The idol’s face scrunches up into a cute frown, before he grabs his pen with unmatched concentration. “N-no! I can totally beat my old record! I’m so good at signing merch— nobody can beat me! Even Joel!”
“Okay then! Chop chop!” Etho teases.
It takes Bdubs thirty seconds to sign everything— from fans to the robe, to the itabags and pashas— he was quick. Dylan had his jaw on the floor, Emma’s eyes were wide like saucers, Bea almost dropped her light stick, and Peter was just stunned.
“There!” Huffs the man, glitter sparkling off his eyelids. “Did I beat my old record?”
“Oooh… Fast Dubs! Yep, by two seconds.” — the man was keeping track?!
“Yes!” The idol’s never even cheered like this before. “I did it! I’m the best Idol in the world!”
The line claps, as Bdubs stands up from his seat and bows proudly.
And they watch, as something in Mr. Slab’s eyes softens.
“That, you are, Dubs. That you are.”
And Bdubs’ soft smile was blinding.
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“Hi! Hello!” The idol greets the four teens brightly, waving them over. “You guys look awesome! I love how your outfits are all so nicely coordinated!”
A flush rises to their cheek— oh my god— they’ve been complimented by the best idol ever!
“I—We— We thank you!” Stammers Dylan.
“Aw! You guys are adorable! Let’s get a picture together!” He beckons, standing up. “Hi, do you mind if you help us take a picture?” He asks the nearest security guard next to him.
“Of course. No problem.”
“Thanks so much! Okay guys, say cheese!”
“Cheese!” Everyone there was shining with excitement; this was a picture to treasure forever.
“Well, what brings you here today?” Bdubs smiles, lifting his pen.
“W-we’re Hermit Secondary’s idol fan club!” Emma stammers, a blush heavy on her face. “We really love your music and your work!”
“Hermit Secondary… It’s a great school!” He sends a thumbs up. Up close, he’s beautiful— you can swear you see stardust coming off his eyelashes, with entire galaxies and stars in his eyes. His bright aura and demeanour light up the room like no other.
“You k-know about that school?!” Questions Bea.
“Of course— after all E—“ the idol, with a bright pink blush on his face, stammers before his face turns pale.
“—I mean Scar works there now! How’s Scar as a teacher? He’s always loved design and architecture.”
“Oh, Mr. Goodtimes? He’s fun! Great! Really.” Replies Peter.
“O-okay! Do you guys have anything you’d like me to sign?”
“Yes!”
“Great! Let’s see if I can continue to prove that I’m the greatest idol in the world!”
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Six: Robotics Competition:
“Okay. Here’s our table.” Mr Slab announces to his Year Thirteen robotics club. “Do we remember how to set it up?”
“Yes.” The club announces in unison. How exciting, Hermit Secondary has managed to enter the national robotics competition! With Mr. Slab as their supervisor, they’ve set off this year to win this competition and take home the gold.
This would look great on their CVs; with University and intern applications looking over their heads, they were prepared to win this thing.
“Okay, I’ll come back to do a final check later.” The man shoves his hands into the pockets of his long pants. His dress shirt tucked into his belt. “Give me a moment, I gotta head out for something and registration. Mike, be careful with the pieces.”
“On it, Mr. Slab.”
“Good, we’ve got this team.” The man’s eyes crinkle with pride. “I’ll be back asap.” And he’s off.
“You know… he’s probably the best supervisor our school’s ever had for robotics.”Emily sighs, gently picking up their competition piece and piecing together loose parts.
“Yeah. You know how stumped we were with this thing malfunctioning. And then in comes Mr. Slab, who took a five-second glance and immediately taught us how to fix the problem!” George exclaims, as he sets up the school banner on their table.
“Bro. This was the guy who built a nuclear reactor in college for fun.” Deadpans Mark.
“Dude, no way you believe that. That man is as mysterious as he comes, but surely he’s not some crazy secret genius.” Michela rolls her eyes.
“It’s confirmed by Mr. Fan! He keeps telling us stuff in the middle of Bio!” Mike exclaims, pulling a little too hard on a metal piece.
“Hey, watch it!”
“Sorry—“
“Hello kids, which school are you from?” A nicely dressed lady approaches them, clipboard in hand.
“Hermit Secondary—Ma’am!” Mike responds, straightening out his back. He cautiously glances around the hall, scanning out the other competition from other schools.
Her face lights up. “Exactly the school I was looking for. Can I please speak to your supervisor? Mr. Etho Slab, was it?”
“Yes.” Nods Michela. “He went outside to help us with registration. Would you like us to get him?”
“Oh yes, this is quite urgent so that would be wonderful.” The lady smiles, her badge gleaming in the sunlight. “I’ll stay here and guard your table, you guys go.”
The club heads off outside the hall, into the long winding hallways. As they run towards the entrance, they pass the registration desk.
But… No, Mr. Slab?
“Where is he?” Groans George.
“Maybe bathroom—“
Just then, gentle mumbles could be heard around the corner. The club creeps up behind the two people chatting, hiding behind the wall. The tuft of signature white hair sends shock through the club’s spine.
“… Etho! You silly goof. You mixed up our staff cards!”
“Sorry Dubs… I was in a rush; I had already forgotten my lunch.”
Stood in front of Etho was a man with a green hoodie, face shrouded with a mask and sunglasses. They could hear the lighthearted tone of that other guy’s voice.
“You’re soooo lucky I had practice at the nearby headquarters, Etho! Be more careful, and it’s okay to be a little late. They almost didn’t let me in!”
“I’m sorry, Bdubs.” Their teacher pouts — POUTS! Like a sopping wet fox!
Wait.
The club was so quiet anyone could hear a pin drop.
Bdubs?!
“Love you.” The Idol’s tone, soft as a pillow. “Good luck with the robotics —- oh.”
“Oh? What’s wrong?”
The hooded man points towards the very well-hidden Hermit Secondary robotics club members.
Fuck. Caught.
“Oh snappers— You guys saw all that?! I told you guys to wait inside!” The teacher hisses, striding towards the students furiously, eyes intensely, scarily locked onto the shivering students. “Okay. I need you all to be extremely quiet about this—“
“We saw nothing—“
And suddenly, a laugh pierces through the empty corner. The idol lifts off his sunglasses and mask, smiling.
“Oh, leave them be, Etho. This is hilarious!” Tears of joy could be seen pearling in Bdubs’ eyes.s “It was going to happen someday.”
“Bdubs!” Etho whisper-screams. “Your agency! They’re going to kill me!”
“Psh, please. They’ll just send out more NDAs.” The waves his hand dismissively. “Besides, dating and marriage rumours pop up about me all the time! It will be a run-of-the-mill discourse on Twitter or something if these kids post it.”
“… right… but the last time something like this blew up—the dating rumours with Impulse—“
“I know! It will be okay. I’ll be fine, E.” Bdubs gently places a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. His eyes filled with love and admiration towards their teacher. Mr. Slab still looked troubled, white brows furrowed on his face.
“E.”
“Dubs. You are everything to me. Sorry if I’m a little ruffled right now. I just really don’t want anything to get out of hand… like last time.”
The students could almost melt at how sweet Mr.Slab was being, a complete opposite of his usual chill and casual demeanor.
“It’s okay, E. I completely understand.” The idol gives their teacher a hug, as a kiss on the cheek before he turns his attention towards the students.
“Hi! Your Mr. Slab has told me much about you; congratulations on making it to nationals! Wow, be super proud of yourselves.”
“T-Thank you.” The club stammers, blush on their faces as their hearts hammer in their chests.
“Well, good luck with the competition! If you have Etho, you’ll be fine.” The idol smiles and turns on his heels. “Later! Bye!”
“Bye.” Calls out Etho with a giddy tone. He quickly turns towards his students with eerie calmness.
“You cannot tell anyone.” He begins, extremely calmly. “This is for your own good. If this is spread anywhere , his lawyers will be on your asses, like a police chase, except you can never escape.”
The club nods furiously.
“Take it from me— I am more terrified of his lawyers than of government intelligence who monitor me and Mr. Fan most of the time at work.”
Wait. What?!
“So, no telling friends. No posting online. Nothing. You will listen to me for your own good. I’ll let you guys ask me questions later, but what did you need me for?”
“A-a lady was at our desk, asking for you asap.” George stammers, still shaken.
Mr. Slab only groans, face buried in his hands.
“These pesky government agents— always making sure I’m not getting the students to build anything classified.’ ” he half laughs, while rolling his eyes. “They do this every year to me!”
“… Is this why Mr. Fan doesn’t help chaperone any science clubs anymore?” Michela asks.
“Hm? Oh, yeah. Cub’s terrifying; he’s been legally banned from supervising any science club in his teaching career. One year he tried to get the students to submit a virus for a biology research competition.”
“What?!”
“Didn’t work. I had to take over— Psh, I know nothing about biology.”
The walk back to the hall was filled with stunned silence.
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“And in First place…”
The club watches on, hearts pounding in their chest. Anticipation fills the room.
“Goes to…”
It’s happening— It’s happening!
“Hermit Secondary!”
The cheers erupt from Hermit Secondary’s table, as the rest of the halls clap in celebration. They did it! They won nationals!
“Please come up stage to collect your trophy and certificates!”
Mr Slab gives them an encouraging nod, pushing the team towards the stage. He follows closely behind, as his students excitedly stumble over their feet to receive their prize.
They quickly scamper up stage, as they’re handed the trophy. Shuffling in together with Mr. Slab at the back as the photographer takes a picture.
“Congratulations, Hermit Secondary!”
The walk back to the bus was full of chatter and anticipation, as they all sat down. Mr. Slab sits at the front of the bus, neck craned towards the students.
“So. Questions? Just— don’t mention his name.” The suspicious teacher glances towards the driver, who could not care less about the conversation happening behind him.
“Married?”
“Married.”
“How long?” Mike pipes up.
“For a decade or so? I think a bit more.”
“Woahhh….” The club hums in unison.
“So long?”
“Married him straight out of college. He put me through the entrance exam. Reason he took up his current job.”
“Wait— His agency said he was scouted; I didn’t know he took up the job because of you?” George pipes up.
“Yep. Two orphans running away from an orphanage and living above a garage doesn’t earn you a living wage.” The man shrugs, fidgeting with his cloth mask. “We took any opportunity we got.”
“I’m sorry you did what?!”
“Don’t worry about it.” Laughter rings through the bus. “Not important.”
“So the rumours… The Year Twelve fan club said they saw you at his concert the other day—“
“Just supporting my husband. Nothing much.”
“And all the merch?”
“Yeah right— I forget you guys see that on Zoom. Yeah, I just order those like everyone else. I use my own bank account to support him.”
The bus nods in unison, stunned, unsure what to say.
“No more questions? Good. Let’s celebrate this victory.”
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Bonus: Upper secondary Career day.
“Hey man.” Etho reaches out towards the German scientist before him. “Long time no see, thanks for coming today.”
“Hah! Thanks for inviting me to career day.” The man laughs. Doc, Etho and Cub’s old colleague from the government returns the handshake. “How have you been? Being a physics teacher fun for you?”
Etho only rolls his eyes at his old friend, pushing him towards his designated stall. “Fun enough. Keeps life peaceful and chill, you know. How is breaking the current laws of the sciences?”
“I see, well it’s been—“
“Let it go, let it go!!”
Doc’s face immediately scrunches up unpleasantly as his ears ring with that cheery voice. Whipping his head around, he glares directly at Scar’s smug smiling face.
“Scar.”
“Hi Doc!” He cheerfully responds. “How are you doing~!”
“Good. How’s your career in thievery?"
“I’m hurt!” The design teacher pretends to faint. “Sad! It was an accident!”
“You took my diamond circuit base!”
“And I apologized a million—“
“O—Kay!” Etho smiles at the chaos. “I’l leave you two to it! Bye!”
“Etho, you traitor, come back!” The both of them squeal.
He walks down the rows of neatly categorised tables in the large gym. Members of the community had graciously accepted participating in Hermit Secondary’s annual career day, hoping to share the benefits of their jobs and recruit some fresh bright minds.
He watches as Ren talks to the local theater troupe he was a part of, leading them to their stall. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Gem taking the local gym owner to his area.
And suddenly. Near the arts department stands a flaming redhead. Arms crossed like they were uninterested as they looked at the mannequin they’ve set up.
“Why are they here?” He mumbles to himself. This was bad. This was very, very bad. He softly walks towards her stall, terrified of his footsteps being heard.
Thank goodness their back was turned—
“I know you’re there, Etho.”
Snap.
“W-well! Cleo! W-what are you doing here? Please tell me you’re here alone. Without him. Please.” He anxiously stammers out, hands planted firmly on the table.
They scoff, rolling their eyes. “What do you mean? I wouldn’t know his whereabouts! I’m only the agency’s costume designer now!”
“Okay, Cleo. I know you’ve lowkey sort of become his manager— please, please tell me he didn’t come today.” He whispers slowly. “The agency knows this will be a PR nightmare.”
“Geez, Etho, who’s his manager now? Me or you?” They laugh, continuing to lay out costumes and outfit designs and sketches. “The agency approved.”
“They what?”
“Said it would actually bring in good PR. Idol, showing up at the local school and helping guide the youth to their future or something. They wanted to get Joel, Grian, Jimmy and Martyn as well, but figured that would be too much.”
“Are they insane? The press will be all over the kids—“
“Limited Paparazzi, only agency reporters to take photographs. You know how their security measures are.”
“… That’s true— so where is he now?“
“Ah.” They stop. “Good question. He said he was off to find you?”
“Ah— snap. Classroom it is. Okay. Have a good one,e Cleo.”
“Yes, Yes. Okay. Now go, I need to set up in peace.”
His footsteps dash out of the hall as fast as possible, until he looks back at Cleo’s stall. Some students have already gone up and asked them to sign their notebooks and stationery—
He guesses their Idol fame was still renowned despite retiring. He watches as they happily sign and continue conversations with the kids.
He runs up to the 6th floor. Slamming open the door.
There he stands.
Him in that dingy hoodie, that green hoodie that’s been with them since their teens. The one he always wore to avoid paparazzi. It had belonged to Etho, many years ago, but he had taken it one day and proclaimed it was his.
(It was still a little big. He refused to alter it though.)
He didn’t have his sunglasses on or his mask. So when he lit up at the sight of Etho, the teacher could see every ounce of beauty on his husband’s face.
“Honey!”
Etho only smiles beneath his mask, walking over towards Bdubs. He’s warm, in Etho’s arms, staring up at him like he was the world.
“Bdubs.” He smiles back. “Cleo told me you were here— why’d the agency think this was a good idea?”
“Beats me.” The idol shrugs. “I just said I wanted to attend a local career day, and the higher-ups thought it was a good idea or something. Honestly? Just wanted to see you.”
“Okay— so do you have a plan? Or something?” Etho raises his eyebrows.
“Oh yeah— Totally, totally yeah!” Bdubs beams. “Walk me to the gym?”
“Like… arm in arm?”
“Yep!”
“…” Etho sighs. “Okay, I trust you.”
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The door swings open to the gymnasium. Now, most wouldn’t be quick to notice; after all, hundreds of people had been setting up here for the past hour.
But as people’s heads start darting towards it, gasps could be heard all across the room.
No way— it couldn’t be!
“Is that— Bdubs?”
“Bdubs? Like the idol?”
“Oh my god, it’s Bdubs! It’s Bdubs! What is he doing at our school?”
Wait… the idol was clinging onto someone, tightly, affectionately.
As they all looked up—
“Mr. Slab?!”
“What?! Why is— Bdubs holding onto his arm like a lover?!”
“No way— is that Mr. Slab’s twin brother or something?”
Shocked whispers fill the hall, as Etho awkwardly scratches the back of his head. He’s not used to this, not exactly a big fan— but if Bdubs wanted it…
He glances down at his husband, eyes sparkling like a little kid in a candy store. Pride puffed out in his chest— was he really that proud?
“Etho! C’mon! Help me set up my stall!”
It’s a hilarious sight, watching the usual cool mysterious physics teacher get his tall stature dragged around by the physical embodiment of a bunny. Bdubs’ laughter rings throughout the stunned gymnasium.
“B-Bdubs—“ Oh god— the man was flushed from head to toe, his pale skin all red. It was almost a hilarious sight to the rest of the gym— if it wasn’t for the idol dragging him along.
He sticks his tongue out, pulling Etho towards the empty stall next to Cleo. He gave her a quick wave before he began taking things out of his messenger bag. Song lyrics, old outfits—
“Bdubs, is that the first costume I designed for you?!” Cleo exclaims, shocked.
“Yep!” He smiles brightly. “Always has been one of my favourites. Say, where can I get a mannequin?”
Cleo huffs affectionately, giving Bdubs a ruffle on the head. They’ve been close since their clocked days, and will continue to be even if they decide not to continue being an idol. He’s really happy for her, establishing their own name in the industry as a fierce and competent manager as well as part-time costume designer.
“U-uh— I think I can ask Scar?” Stammers Etho, running off towards the design teacher across the hall. “Let me do that for you.”
“Thanks, Honey!” He calls loudly, as Etho runs flushed.
“Phew! This is a lot of fun.” He grins towards Cleo, who only rolls their eyes. “Say, you think these things are good enough to highlight a career in the entertainment industry?”
“Close enough.” They glance at the costume, the lyrics, and the pretend contract Bdubs had jokingly put in. “Yeah, accurate. Especially that long NDA.”
“HAH! I know, right? I’ll never get why they make us read all that—“
“Um… you’re Bdubs… Right?” A shy student stands in front of him. Awkward.
“Yep! Of course! The one and only.” He flashes his signature grin. “Are you here to learn about having a career in the idol industry?”
“Erm… Sort of?” The student stammers, as more people start crowding his stall. Goodness, a whole lot of eager and curious students here! He lets out a melodic laugh. “W-we were just wondering— sorry if it’s a little invasive, but— Are you and Mr. Slab dating or something?”
Bdubs stops, glances towards Cleo. They look stunned, unsure what to say. Usually this would be a PR disaster. An idol dating someone would be catastrophic for his career— he doesn’t really understand, but—
“What?! No! Nothing like that!” He laughs, beckoning the crowd over, closer to his stall. “But all of you, huddle around. I’ll tell you, guys, a secret.”
The large crowd of teenagers plus Cleo shuffle towards the Idol, huddling around him.
“Okay. You guys must promise not to tell anyone else! Pinky swears. I personally think it’s very stupid, but my agency’s insistent on releasing hordes of terrifying lawyers if this is leaked.”
The crowd nods intently, swearing their oath.
Bdubs winks, stardust brushing off his cheek, as galaxies sparkle in his eyes. Brimming with charisma and charm, he smiles so wide.
“…actually, Mr. Slab is my husband.”
And the huddled crowd goes silent.
Jaws drop open, eyes go wide— besides the year thirteen robotics team, who only sigh in relief.
“This… This makes so much sense now…” gasps a student. “There had been rumours about Mr. Slab being your biggest fan— No wonder…”
“Yeah… we saw him at the concert decked out in your merch.” Gasps Peter.
“Oh yeah— he’s been doing that since I debuted all those years ago.” He rolls his eyes affectionately. “I don’t really get it; he buys up my merch every time there’s a drop. It’s really sweet that he supports me. Also great to see you guys again!” He fist bumps the fan club, whose eyes are glimmering at this point. “You guys had the coolest outfits!”
“T-thanks.”
“W-what about his home office? My sister in year eight said his room was decked out completely in your merch—“
“Oh that? Pshhhh. Let you in on a little tidbit. We used to live above an auto repair shop in high school and college. My side of the room was completely normal; his side was just a million plushies of myself staring back at me.” He laughs, taking out a plushie of himself from his messenger bag.
“It was disorienting at first— who wouldn’t be? But he was Etho, so I loved him for that.”
“Is that why he argued with Jack during sports day?!” Another student asks. “He got all riled up about Jack saying your music was overrated.”
“Yeah, I saw that too; he never argues with students like that.”
“Hey!” Squeaks the one supposedly named Jack. “But… wow, his comment about Boyfriends and Girlfriends makes some sense now.”
“He did what?!” Squeaks Bdubs, as Cleo bursts into laughter. “Okay, I’ll have a word with him. That silly man! Jack’s opinion is rather valid, but I still think I’m the best idol in the world, and I work really hard!” He huffs, sticking out his chest with pride.
“How did you two meet?” Another brave student asks. “He seems like the complete opposite of you— I mean that in a good way, of course.”
“Well… We were both orphans! He was a year older than me, but I was there longer than him. So we became fast friends.” He giggles, tucking a lock of curly hair behind his ears.
“How’d you become an idol?” Another asks, eyes glimmering.
“Right! It's career day! These questions are perfect! Well, I was out job hunting when I was sixteen. Etho wanted to take the entrance exam for Uni, and I wanted to surprise him with the money. Got scouted, and they liked me enough at the audition, and boom! Debuted with Cleo and Scar!” He pulls Cleo close by the shoulder, who smiles with him.
“This one was a reeeal handful.” Cleo rolls their eyes. “He’d always sneak Etho backstage after a concert, and Etho would always show up with flowers. Me and Scar? Always making excuses for him to management.”
Bdubs scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “Thanks for everything, Cleo!”
“No problem. It was super entertaining to watch. Especially since Etho had a massive crush on him back-“
“O-KAY!” Shouts a voice behind the crowd. “I think we should mind our manners and let Bdubs breathe!” The masked man towers over his students, a mannequin in hand. “It's Career Day, not a fan meet and idle gossip.”
“Aw…” the crowd sighs.
He shoots a glare to Cleo, who only sticks out their tongue in a teasing manner.
“B-But!” A voice calls out in the crowd.
“Mr. Slab, it was just getting interesting!”
“Yeah,h Etho.” Teases Bdubs. “Why didn’t I know about this massive crush that you had on me?” His arms crossed as a mischievous glint reflecting off his eyes.
“Ooooooooh!”
“I— Okay, let’s all break up this crowd. Bdubs, don’t encourage them!”
“HAHA! Okay, sorry guys. Mr. Slab is right. Make the most of this career day!”
“Yes!”
As the crowd dissipates and students filter to other tables, Etho lets out a big sigh behind his mask. Putting down the mannequin, they start to dress it up in the costume Bdubs had brought. His handmade sign was put up nicely in front of the stall as he dusted his hands. Perfect.
Before Etho could think, his tie was suddenly grabbed and his face pulled down. A soft kiss on the cheek was what he got as he stared at his husband.
“What’s all this about arguing with kids during sports day because some guy named Jack called me overrated?”
Etho only shrugs. “He had an opinion, which was wrong. I had to correct him.”
Bdubs only sighs at his antics. “You’re hilarious. Har har. Now, let’s see how this career day turns out!”
And Etho smiles back at him: his forever partner, his Kami-Oshi.
His beloved, Bdubs.