Chapter Text
Race slung the strap of his backpack lazily over his shoulder and began making his way out the door. "Bye, mom! I'm off to school! Love you!" He called, not waiting for a response.
He barely made it onto the bus, and for that, he had to find a seat. He walked down the aisle in search of a hopefully empty seat, although, his luck was slowly disappearing as he got closer to the back.
"Find a seat, please," the bus driver said tiredly. The poor man looked like he'd been driving the same bus for twenty years and was fed up with his life. And Race almost felt bad for the guy, until he quickly realized he had to find a seat.
He had almost completely made it to the back, and that worried him, because it meant having yo sit with some other kid that'd just give him a dirty look and then look back out the window. Race didn't want to have to drown in that kind of awkwardness at 7:00 A.M. He was dreading his possible seat, until his face lit up and he gasped, pulling himself into a seat after he'd noticed who else was in it.
Of course, it had to be none other than whi he'd been proud to call his friend, the new kid, David. "David," Race whisper hollered. "Dave, it's me."
David took off an ear bud and glared at Race. "I... know?"
Race put his hands up in mock surrender. "Jeez, okay, not a morning person. Message received. Where's Jackie? You two are always attached at the hip." He was right. And he began to feel a sinking feeling that maybe something happened.
"He had a morning marching band practice, so he had to be there early," David replied.
Race raised a brow. "Since when did he join marching band?"
David could only respond with a shrug before the bus screeched to a stop, and before they knew it, there was drumming on the back of the seat in front of them. And, of course, it had to be Race's best friend, Albert. "What are we talking about here?"
"Good morning to you too, Albert," David said, putting the ear bud back in and leaning back against the window.
Albert pointed to him and looked at Race. "What's up with him?"
Race shrugged. "I dunno. Not a morning person, I guess."
"I mean, who is?" A familiar voice chimed in.
"You?" Race tilted his head in confusion at Romeo, who shrugged.
"Valid. But I mean, like, other than us," Romeo said.
"Nobody," Finch chirped. "Everyone at this school's a freakin' zombie, and I can't say I blame them."
"Morning, Finch," Race said.
"Oh, what, he gets a good morning and I don't?" Romeo asked, crossing his arms, being his dramatic self.
"Good morning, Romeo," Race, Albert, Finch, and Davey all grumbled in unison.
"Thank you," Romeo said, not even stopping to return the favor. Soon enough, the bus screeched to a stop once again, this time in front of their school.
High school. Basically, one big game of Hunt or Hunted. A gladiator ring. One that Race wasn't particularly fond of. Which was funny, because he'd always had a thing for Chaos. It was he and Albert's thing.
He stepped through the door and felt the air conditioning blow in his face, a constant reminder of the loop that every day had become. Wake up, go to school, be bored out of his mind, hardly get to pay attention, go home, work even more, eat something, go to bed. That was it.
Only, recently, things seemed to be escalating. Differentiating. For example, last week, he'd gotten braces. Something that many kids have to go through. They hurt, and they bothered him, but he'd slowly started getting used to them. And recently, the football team seemed to get a kick out of using him as their football. Verbally, of course. Race hoped it'd stay that way, he didn't know what he'd do if they'd start pushing him around or anything, given how big they were compared to him. But even recently, they started backing off a bit more. With only one of the members harassing him. And, of course, as if it were out of any cheesy high school movie, it had to be the quarterback. This would bother Race, normally. He'd typically hate it. But he'd taken a liking to it. Why? It was funny to him.
It was funny because everybody seemed to warship this guy, but he must've been a foot shorter than him. He didn't see how everybody could see him as scary, other than his bulging muscles and colorful threats. That guy so happened to be named Sean. Sean Conlon. But once, Race made a joke about how "he's so small he's like a spot on my windshield," and the nickname 'Spot' began to get tossed around the school. Eventually, it reached the man himself, and he seemed to fully encourage it, thankfully.
Race walked up the stairs to the second floor, where his locker was, with his bag. He only had to walk down the hall a bit to reach it, but once he did, he opened it and lazily plopped his bag down in it, turning it to open it to grab the things he needed out of it. He had just gotten everything, and grabbed the door to shit it, but another hand shut it for him. Race didn't even have to look up to know who it was. In fact, he looked at his feet and huffed a.quiet laugh. "Spot."
"Where do you think you're going?"
"To class." Race didn't even look at the boy. He turned on his heels and began walking toward class. Unfortunately, he had Spot in his third period, surrounded by about half of his gang. That was one od the worst classes for Race, given that he didn't even have any friends in there to socialize or even be bored with.
***
After the day was done, and Race had been harassed about four too many times by the same guy making gnarly comments at him, he dragged himself onto the bus, with ironically the same seating arrangement as the morning.
"I just don't get it," Race said. "I mean, why does he pick on me of all people? And just him?"
"Well, I mean, he's the leader of his group. He makes fun of others to make his pals like him so that he can stay in power," Finch explained.
"So he's a politician," Race said.
Romeo started to laugh, then slowed to a stop. "Wow. That really is true. God, our government's corrupt."
"Romeo, enough. Let's not get too deep into this," Davey said, finally looking up from his book. "Political arguments can easily get ugly. Don't you have a boyfriend you can talk about instead? What was his name? Specs?"
"Yeah it is!" Jack grabbed Romeo's shoulder and shook it, encouragingly. "Our little Romeo. Giving us reason to use his name. Finally finding romance, and making the first move all on his own like a big boy."
Romeo brushed Jack's hand off him. "Don't patronize me. Plus, when are you and Jack gonna kiss or something?" Suddenly, Davey's book became very interesting, as did the back of the seat in front of Jack. "That's what I thought," Romeo spat at the silence.
"So, back to my thing," Race said, changing the topic. "Anybody got anything good?"
"What?" Albert tilted his head.
"Y'know. Somethin' to say back to him. A clever retort. Anything?"
"Oh." Romeo said. Then he shook his head. "I don't... I don't really have anything for that. If you were trying to ask him out, I'd say I've got over a million, but..."
"Hey, maybe that's a good thing," Davey said, now closing his book completely. "We shouldn't provoke him. I don't care how much he messes with you, giving him a taste of his own medicine won't do anything. Trust me."
"On the other hand," Jack said, "it could still be worth a shot."
"I've got one," Albert said. "And you can use this as much as you want. Any time he comments, make him have to make it about you in a good way."
Race raised a brow. "Huh?"
"You lost me," Finch said.
"For example," Albert began to explain, "if he comments on your shirt, all you have to say to take his power away is 'why were you paying attention to that?'"
Race nodded slowly. "Okey... I think I'm getting this."
"I’d he comments on, say, your shoes, just be like, 'eyes up here,' or something stupid like that."
"I get it," Race said, as everybody else slowly nodded in agreement. "Hey, thanks, Al. That's not a bad idea."
"Use it wisely," Albert warned.
"Oh, that won't be a problem," Race assured him.
Spoiler alert:
It was.
***
Race opened his locker at the end of the day and began shoving his books inside his bag when a familiar voice appeared behind him.
"Higgins," the voice said in a warning tone.
Race, despite himself, turned around, proudly of his new trick he was about to get to use, trying to hide his smirk. "What?"
"Your braces are lookin' extra shiny today," Spot joked. A few of his buddies behind him laughed.
Before Race could even register what was about to come out of his mouth, he said it anyway. "Why were ya lookin' at my mouth?"
The air sucked out of the hallway, and only two words dared to cross Race's mind after that.
Oh. Shit.
Race began to stutter. "Uh, forget it- forget that I said that, I..." he hesitated. "I gotta go."
"Wait, what'd you just ask me?"
"I said I gotta go," Race said, more firm this time. He turned and did the only thing he could do. He ran.
There was a reason that Racetrack was called Racetrack. Funny enough, it was another one of Albert's stupid nicknames. When they were little, probably about ten or so, Race had been obsessed with things like NASCAR and the Kentucky Derby. He loved watching things like that. It got so bad to the point where Albert said to him, "you're so obsessed with that stuff, I'm sure you'd let them use you as a racetrack for free front row seats." Race didn't deny it. And so, the name Racetrack was born, and it was soon shortened to Race, even after he phased out of his obsession. It had been the right call, however, given that he did Cross Country every other year, and the years in-between that, he did Track & Field. Not only that, but he was one of the school's best runners.
Hence what he was doing now.
He ran all the way down the hall, down the stairs, and out the door onto the bus, throwing himself into one of the seats. "Albert," he said, hardly catching his breath, "I hate you."
"Oh boy," Jack said.
"What'd you do this time?" David asked Albert, who shrugged.
"He told me to use that stupid comeback thing. The "why were you paying attention?' thing," Race explained. "Yeah. Plan backfired. Before I could backtrack or recover from what I said to him, I ran."
"Oh, God, what did you say?" Davey asked.
"He said somethin' about my braces being shiny and I asked him why he was looking at my mouth."
Romeo gasped and leaned forward with interest. "Tell me more."
"Shut up," Race hissed. "And there is no 'more'. That was it. I ran after that."
"Oh, come on!" Rome flailed his arms as if he'd just watched his favorite sports team lose. "You suck!"
"Well, what did you want me to do?"
Romeo put his arms down slowly, an idea crossing his mind. "Hey..." a small smirk spread across his face. "You wouldn't happen to know if there was a reason for that, would you? Something in your subconscious?"
"Romeo, I swear to god, stop trying to romanticize this situation," Race warned.
"Are you sure?" Romeo leaned forward. "I mean, who's to say?"
***
Race had to practically glue himself to his bed to keep from getting up and banging his head into the wall. And it was only Monday.
"And what did he say?" Albert asked over the phone speaker.
Race sighed. "I don't know, I think he's asked me what I said or what I meant or something."
There was a pause. "So what do you think this could've been?" Albert asked.
"Can I be honest with ya, Al?"
"Of course."
"I don't know," Race said. "I mean, he... I... I really don't know."
"Well, how did you feel about it?" Albert asked thoughtfully.
"Like I wanted to walk into the ocean," Race said.
Albert chuckled. "Seriously, Racer. I know that wasn't everything."
Race huffed a quiet laugh. "I really don't know. I just..." before he could finish, he realized just what he was hiding and what it added up to. He sighed. "Shit," he hissed.
"What?" Albert asked.
"Nothing," Race said.
"No, it was something."
"I like him," Race blurted out. "This whole time, my idiotic self was blaming that on wanting to be friends with him, but I don't think that's it."
There was another long pause as Albert processed the information. "Oh my god," he finally said. "Why?"
"Albert, you think I know why?" Race hollered.
"No, no, that's not what I meant. I meant why do you think you like him? Not why you like him, but why you drew the conclusion."
Race sighed again. "I don't know, he..." he trailed off, not even knowing what to say. He decided that Albert had been his best friend since kindergarten, and they'd both vowed to not let romance get between them. They'd told each other everything up to this point, so why stop now? "He's everything I've ever wanted," he finally said.
"And why do you think that is?" Albert asked. "I mean, no offense, but he's been bullying you since the fifth grade."
"I know," Race said, "but it's not how he interacts with me. It's what he has compared to others. He's able to stand tall no matter what's in his way. Not to mention, he treats his boys like family. He's got a tough shell, but he's not so bad on the inside, y'know?"
"No," Albert said point blank. "But since you know him so well, I guess I'll have to take your word for it."
"I don't personally know him, but I've seen those that do. They're scared of him, yeah, but he wouldn't hurt them too bad."
"See? See that?" Albert asked. "He doesn't hurt them 'too bad'. That's not 'he doesn't hurt them period'."
"I dunno," Race said. "I've been jealous of every girlfriend he's had, and upset by the fact that he's never had a boyfriend. I didn't know why that was until now."
Albert sighed. "Racer..." he cut himself off.
Race took a deep breath and nodded. "I gotta call Romeo. Stay on the line." Before he could do so, the doorbell rang. Race was home alone, but assumed it was his doordash order. "That's my food," Race said. "Hang on." He stood up, then glanced back at the phone. "Actually... I'm taking you with me." Race shoved his phone in his pocket, making sure not to hang up, as he made his way down the stairs and to the front door. When he opened it, however, he saw that it was in fact not his food, but something much worse.
"Let's talk," Spot said.
Race's breath stopped for a small moment before he sighed. "Damn it, I thought you were my doordash."
Spot nodded toward his car in the driveway. "Let's talk," he repeated.
"Yeah, uh... hang on just a sec." Race closed the door and immediately pulled his phone out of his pocket.
"Okay, who was that?" Albert's voice boomed over the speaker.
"Spot," Race said. He could almost hear Albert's eyes widening over the phone.
"I'm sorry, what? He wants to talk to you?"
Race laughed. "He wants to talk to me!" A small pause as Race's face fell. "Oh shit, he wants to talk to me."
"Okay," Albert said frantically. "It's okay. Just don't get socked in the face or anything, don't say anything stupid, let him do the talking."
"Easy for you to say!" Race yelled. "I'm Mr. Run-Your-Mouth!"
"So don't be! Shut up for once!"
"Okay okay. He's outside waiting for me. I really need to go."
"What's happening?" Romeo's voice came over the speaker, as Albert had already called him and merged the call.
"Don't die," Albert said.
"Albie, I'm really gonna try," Race said, hanging up and shoving his phone back into his pocket. He checked himself in the nearest mirror, fixing his hair briefly and slipping shoes on before opening the door again. "Yep, I'm free. What's up?"
He followed Spot out to his car and slipped into the passenger seat. Spot started the car and pulled out, his grip on the steering wheel almost scary, keeping his eyes locked on the road.
"Uh..." Race desperately searched his brain for material to strike up a conversation. "How about that weather?" He chuckled. Spot didn't respond. "Okay. Uh... so, why am I even in here? Is there something you wanted to ask me? More importantly, why do we have to drive all the way to, like, Arkansas to talk about it? How did you even get my address?"
"Just shut up and I'll explain when we get there. And we're not going to Arkansas. We're not even leaving town."
"I was making a joke because of how far we're driving," Race said. And suddenly, he remembered Albert's voice. Don't say anything stupid, let him do the talking. Easy for him to say. Race crossed his arms and leaned against the window in a desperate attempt to clear, or at least slow his mind. He tried to hide the fact that he was taking deep breaths to at least try to calm himself, but unfortunately, Spot noticed.
"You okay?" He asked, not looking away from the road.
"Who, me?" Race looked up. "Yeah," he said in a mock cheerful tone, "I'm great. I mean, today is shaping up pretty nicely. I get home, do homework, order doordash, which I never got by the way, call Albert, and now I'm being kidnapped by my school bully."
Spot sighed. "I shouldn't have asked."
"Truth hurts," Race said, looking back out the window.
"You consider me your 'school bully'?" Spot asked, squinting at Race.
"Uh, well, gee, every day you find me in the hallway, even if it's across the school from your next class, and you find some way to harass me, so, yeah. I do. Oh, but it's okay, right? As long as your friends get a good laugh, and they seem to every time, then what you do is perfectly justified. Right, Spotty?"
"Okay, well, you don't have to go and be a dick about it!"
"Oh, I don't have to be a dick? That's funny, cause neither do you, yet here we are," Race snapped.
Just then, Spot pulled over next to a grassy field. "Get out," he hissed.
"What, you're just gonna drop me here?"
"I'm coming with you. Get off your high horse. Now get out of my car."
"Thank God I brought my phone with me," Race said. "So that I can call for help, or call an Uber or something," he added, running his hand over his pocket to check that he did in fact remember his phone.
"I just said I was coming with you!" Spot yelled, opening his door. "And I'll be the one driving you back, not some cheap, sicko Uber. Those people are sketchy. You wanna talk kidnapping? There are millions of Uber horror stories about that. And not just that, but many other worse things."
"Are you an Uber driver?" Race asked, opening his door as well.
"The hell I'm not," Spot assured him.
"So, what, that means I don't have to worry about any of that, or--?"
"Just get outa the damn car, Higgins."
***
Race stood near the tree that was close to the middle of the field, looking around. "Quite the place you got here, Spotty. How'd you swing it?"
"God, I don't live here, you idiot!" Spot corrected him, fighting the urge to smack him upside the head.
Race gasped. "No shit! I thought you were raised by wolves."
"The hell gave you that idea?" Spot asked, raising a brow.
"Well, naturally because of your 'I-need-to-be-the-boss-of-everyone' attitude, and how you have your own little wolf pack at school."
"'Wolf pack'?"
"Yeah. All your buddies."
"You mean the football team?"
"Team, pack, you're all wild animals reguardless."
Spot scoffed. "They're not even my friends. They just follow me around, and I pretend not to mind it. You should consider yourself lucky that I don't actually get that serious with you."
"Yeah," Race said quietly his arms tightening around himself as he looked at a spot beside his feet. "'Least you're not throwin' slurs in my face like some of your other buddies."
"Oh, shut up. You're not special, they do the same thing to me." Spot rolled his eyes, not thinking much of the comment, but Race looked up.
"Say that again?"
"I said they do the same thing to me. Y'know, callin' me slurs an' shit?"
There was a small glimmer of hope in Race's eyes before he realized the slurs that Spot got called were more likely racially centered rather than because of his sexuality.
"So we both get called faggots by them. We may hate each other, but at least we ain't alone!"
At this, Race looked back up, that same glimmer of hope returning. "I'm- I'm sorry, but could you repeat that?"
"Why the hell do you keep needing me to repeat anything? The hell, are you deaf and stupid?"
"Are they right?" Race blurted out. "The allegations, the slurs, are they right?"
Spot hesitated, and now it was his turn to avoid eye contact. "I mean..." he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "So what if they are? What, you got a problem? An' hey, maybe that's why I brought you out here."
Race wanted to say something, but didn't know what. "I... why you brought me out here?”
"So, what about you?" Spot looked back up at Race, a serious look in his eye, like he was completely sincere. "Is everything they say about you right?"
"I mean... I don't know about everything, cause I haven't heard everything yet, but," he paused, hesitated, and looked back at the ground. "If you're talkin' about the likin' guys part, then, yeah." There was a long draw of silence between the two. Not comfortable, but not tense. That was until Race finally decided to speak up. "So... so what, is that all? You dragged me out here for some exclusive interview to check if the rumors are true?"
"That's not all," Spot said, his tone softening. "How... how did you realize it?"
"You," is what Race would have, and sort of wanted to say, before stopping himself. "Uh.. I... don't know," is all he could come up with. "What about you?"
Little did he know Spot would have given him the exact same response before stopping himself as well. "Saw a guy on the street once. I was younger, and he was an adult, and I knew I had no shot with him, but I thought he was pretty. Then, similar occurrences started happening more often, until I realized I was actually attracted to them."
"Huh," Race said. "No kiddin'."
"None at all," Spot added.
There was another long pause of silence. "I'm guessing you're not done?"
"Hey, Race?"
"Yeah?" Race looked up. Before he could even sucl in a full breath, Spot grabbed him by the waist and pulled him into a kiss. It wasn't soft, but wasn't rough. It wasn't what Race expected at all. Of course, it didn't help much that Race didn't expect it at all. His eyes widened for a split second before fluttering closed as he kissed him back. It didn't last long, however, and eventually they did pull away, not quite letting go of each other yet. They just sort of stood there staring at each other in silence. "Okay," Race eventually said. "Is that what this is about?"
"Look, I've liked you for a while. And I mean a good while."
"I've loved you since the fifth grade," Race blurted out. It wasn't long before they both slowly began chuckling.
For the rest of the night, the two lay out in the field, watching the sunset and the stars appear, talking for hours on end. "Shit," Race eventually hissed, sitting up.
"What? What's the problem?" Spot sat up next to him.
"My mom. If I'm not back soon, she'll get so stressed to the point of vomiting and hair loss. I gotta go." He stood and began power walking to the car.
"Wait!" Spot called after him. "Let me drive you!"
Race laughed. "No shit. That was the plan, wasn't it?"
***
Spot pulled into Race's driveway as the two just sat there motionless for a moment. Race un-clipped his seat belt and turned to open the door before Spot stopped him.
"Hey, wait a second."
Race looked back at him. "Yeah?"
Spot gestured between the two of them. "What's... what's this?"
"Uh... well, Spotty, it's up to you," Race replied.
"Uh, okay. In that case, are you free this friday? I figured I'd go see a movie or somethin' if you'd wanna come with."
"Sounds good," Race said.
"So... I'll see you then?"
"It's a date." Race smiled, then got out of the car, walked up to the front door, turned and waved to Spot one last time, and entered the house. "Mom! I'm alive and doing great! It's all good, don't worry!" He immediately ran to his room, jumped on his bed, pulled out his phone and pressed the call button next to Albert's contact. Albert, who, knowing the situation, picked up immediately. "Albert, I swear to god, you're never gonna guess what just happened! I just had the best day of my life, and it started with a minor kidnapping."