Chapter Text
Oakwoods high Library.
Located almost smack-dab in the middle of the large campus, made up of enough floors to accommodate at least an inhouse café, media hall for lectures, working studio for group studies, and an information lounge that doubled as an exhibition space for graduates showing of the fruits of their surely tearful labour, it was a sight to behold.
It was also the only place Froggy, aged seventeen, could study with no distractions.
Now, Froggy wasn’t some sort of genius, but compared to the vast amount of villagers and semi-sentient mobs that also frequented the school, he wasn’t an idiot either, but that isn’t much of an achievement considering most of his competition were destined to be easily replaceable workers.
That being said, the only reason he got into Oakwoods High was because he got approval from the Ultimatefroggy, so there was pretty much absolutely no way that he could fall behind any of his classes and fail. Which meant his days usually consisted of school, food breaks, and studying.
Not the most exciting routine, but if it meant he got to live a semi-normal life instead of being forced to complete the unending amount of tasks coming from higher ups, he was more than happy to deal with it.
But what about other areas? Surely, he had other options. That’s what he thought too, until he was sorely proven wrong.
The outside was loud and always unbearably warm, or terrifyingly cold and he could never even see anything on his screen with the cursed sunlight anyway. Actual cafés were out of the question, staying somewhere for hours just to work, possibly preventing other customers from enjoying themselves, and only buying one thing, it seemed too rude, and his poor wallet would suffer alongside his grades too.
And then there was his own home.
…Well, he was almost never there anyways, and there was no need to change that. Atleast one of his siblings was always present there, and the elders despised anything not concerning the missions or their leader. The other members were always arguing too, so it wouldn’t work out.
So, the library was the glaringly obvious choice. Blissfully still, usually full, but not uncomfortably so, with other students trying to survive through their own classes. The library was peaceful, and he could finally get work done.
The entrance loudly swung shut behind him as Froggy entered, a bag slung over his shoulder and a dangerously tall pile of books in his arms.
As he walked through the maze of shelves, it seemed that even though it was a weekend, there were still other struggling students there, heads lowered and minding their own business. He wandered around aimlessly for a minute, peeking around corners, and searching for an empty desk.
After escaping several attempts from villagers attempting small talk and exchanging quiet hello’s with other students walking past, he breathed a small sigh of relief when he finally found a desk, awkwardly ditching the books, and slinging off his bag.
He glanced nervously over his shoulder, feeling as if afraid someone might be watching. The thought worries him for a moment but also quickly strikes him as funny somehow and he can feel his lips turn up slightly.
Slipping into his mundane routine, he took out a workbook, pens and opened his laptop. Connecting and putting on earphones that played some fancy piano piece that he didn’t actually bother ever listening to, he sat down. Now, he could finally try to finish this damned reading before his class on monday.
At least, that was what he thought, until his laptop was rudely pushed down before he could even log in, startling him with a thump! as his earphones were ripped out.
He looked up, already glaring, to see another student, and he blanched. He immediately recognised who it was, but by god he wished he didn’t.
Froggy had only encountered him twice before, but that was arguably the worst moment of his life.
________
It was a late morning, and Froggy was sprinting through the hallways to his next class, hoping to beat the tsunami of students. Mornings were such a funny thing.
They were like when Froggy used to attempt getting out of combat training with Kikker and would hide in some pitch-dark closet, hugging his knees, keeping perfectly still, and suddenly the other frog would slide open the door with a clatter and shout, "Gotcha!" as blinding sunlight came flooding in, and he'd feel startled, and his heartbeat would quicken, and he'd puff out his cheeks and wait for his poor training partner to reach in and try to pull him out of the closet. He'd refuse to be moved, a little embarrassed at first, that he'd been caught, and then, suddenly, angry - it was like that. Mornings were cruel.
So many exhausting, complicated feelings, all kinds of them, flood your chest, your heart, and it's awful. He hates it, He really does.
His bag jostled against his elbow as he failed to keep it still, and he prayed his laptop wasn’t destroyed inside of it. His hair was a mess, both from not having time to brush it, and the sudden marathon. His clothes were probably in a similar state, dishevelled and badly wrinkled by the time he’d get there.
Now, he’ll admit, that running in the hallways was somewhat of a bad idea. But in his defence, he had assumed that his frog reflexes and general athleticism were enough to keep anything catastrophic from happening.
Clearly, he was wrong, as a classroom door opened and out stepped a lanky man and what he assumed was his shorter villager friend trailing behind him, getting scolded about something, Froggy couldn’t remember what.
He did remember though, was tripping over his own feet, flying forward into one of them, and in all his panic, grabbing onto the closest thing, which happened to be a sleeve. They both crashed onto the hard ground, and Froggy landed square on his ribs and face.
Groaning, he pushed himself up, rubbing his cheek in pain as he grasped around for his bag.
Too concerned with his own injury and possible loss of money due to laptop damages, he only noticed the other body next to him when it too loudly groaned, and its follower who witnessed the entire fiasco in all its glory, was standing looking petrified at them.
Froggy winced and turned around to apologise when he noticed two things.
Firstly, the force of the fall and his own determination not to fall (look how well that went) had popped several of the stitches of the other student’s jacket, although not before nearly choking him as the collar strained against the side of his neck.
Froggy could feel his soul exiting his body as he realised. The second thing he noticed was that this student was very pretty.
And he actually knew who this hot student was. Well… vaguely.
Most people knew him as one of the only people who could consistently turn heads as he walked around campus, if not for his unassumingly handsome face, then for his scary attitude with everyone around him and even more importantly being the son of the lord of all wither skeletons.
Froggy, however, knew him as one of the most annoying students in the whole school, the troublesome wannabe-dictator one who was constantly ordering everyone around for the fun of it. He even knew his name– Grox.
And he had completely ruined Grox's shirt and probably day.
Letting go as if touching the stupid skeleton was actually burning him, Froggy scrambled to his feet, face burning, and he bowed stiffly, before taking off.
He couldn’t remember why he was running in the first place anymore, but now he was running to find a nice ditch that he could lie in until his family either found him, or the birds began feasting on his yummy frog skin.
Panting heavily, he skidded around a corner and sunk to his knees, quietly screaming into his hands.
God, he hoped that in his terribly unnormal but hopefully long life, he never saw that man again, lest he fling himself off a cliff.
________
After that incident, Froggy would rather slowly drown in a barrel of fresh cement than meet the wither skeleton or one of his obnoxiously loyal followers again.
And now, said skeleton, wearing the same, now unripped, jacket, leaning on his laptop, and still dangling his earphones in one hand was standing in front of him. Anxiety and the urge to run away were already building in Froggy's chest, and his hand grabbed his wrist to still himself.
“Ye-yes?” he internally cringed at how his voice cracked and prayed that Grox had somehow gotten amnesia and maybe just needed a pen.
“You’re That froggy dude, right?” fuck his voice was hot too, “the one who ran into me?”
Of course, he still remembered but a man could dream.
“Uh– yeah,” Froggy winced, “I’m really sorry about that by the way, if you need me to pay for–”
“No, no frog dude” Grox waved away the offer, and dropped his earphones, “I do have a favour to ask of you though.”
“Oh, I’m sure I can help– wait, how did you find me here?” he asked. The other was unsurprisingly, nothing but graceful, and took the blunt questions in stride.
“Some of the villagers yammerings can be useful, like when one of them mentioned a weird, green-haired kid always hanging around at the library. Using my amazing detective skills, I was able to track you down,” he bragged, pushing his hair back and leaning on his elbow.
“Anyways, back to the matter at hand!” he suddenly grabbed Froggy's hand, holding it tight, “I need something from you, Froggy, only you can help me.”
“What is it?” he replied. Grox had become uncharacteristically serious, and the sudden shift startled him. He did still feel guilty, maybe this would clear his conscience and earn him some good karma with the skeleton. “I’ll do what I can.”
“I need you to be my fake boyfriend, froggy dude!” Grox exclaimed, black eyes practically sparkling.
…
“You want me to… what?” he hoped that he heard wrong. Froggy stared blankly at his saccharine smile and excited eyes.
“Be my fake boyfriend!” Grox repeated, as if simply demanding homework notes.
He sat up tall, almost standing and he spoke way too loudly for what was socially acceptable in a library. Froggy grimaced as some students unfortunate enough to be near him glared in their direction.
Before saying anything else, he took a deep breath, and rubbed his forehead, trying to comprehend what Grox was asking of him. A man who only knew Froggy as a clumsy weird kid, who destroyed his clothes.
And he wanted Froggy to fake(?) date him. How was he meant to respond to that?
Not to mention that he had technically just met this man.
Clearly Grox had expected his reluctance, and held up a hand, asking for a moment of silence.
“Chill. Hear me out here,” he said, and Froggy sighed. “If you pretend to be my boyfriend, I get all the people confessing to me off my back, and you get a wildly attractive, and wonderfully charismatic man by your side,” he threw his hands up as if there was an obvious choice.
“Okay, well firstly, why me? Secondly, I get practically nothing out of this deal, and thirdly, I barely know you, so no thank you, I’ll have to decline,” he coughed, and tried to open his laptop to continue working, but Grox was a stubborn man.
“Oh Froggy, if you wanted an introduction all you had to do was ask!” he kept his hand firmly planted on the device.
Froggy sighed again.
“Prince Grox, yours truly. A senior, eighteen years old, local heart throb, straight-A student, painfully dashing, need I say more?” he proudly swept a hand through his hair, and yes, Froggy hated the fact that he found it charming.
“Yes, you do. If you want me to pretend to date you at least.” Grox's lips pulled into a pitifully fake pout. “Do you even hear how ridiculous you sound? You’re asking a stranger to do this.” Froggy deadpanned, growing tired at the charade, “and what in the world even is ‘fake dating?’”
“Well frog man, we will pretend to be in a relationship; I’ll walk you to classes, hold your hand, lovingly take you on dates,” Grox crooned, “but! There are no strings attached, and we can break up whenever we want, easy-peasy. All the benefits of dating, but none of those… icky emotional parts.”
“I’m not going to agree to this,” Froggy replied after a moment of bewildered silence.
“Yet,” Grox interrupted.
I’m not going to ‘fake date’ you,” he emphasised and glared at the flippant man. “But I still get nothing out of it if I did, so thank you for the offer, but I’ll still have to kindly refuse,” Froggy finally opened his laptop and put in an earbud, his patience completely worn.
He heard no reply, and he dared to hope that the madman would leave soon.
“Well, it’ll help you get those bullies off your back too,” Grox's voice sung, dashing those hopes away.
At that though, Froggy paused. “What bullies?”
Grox looked at him with unimpressed eyes and nodded at his shoulder. “Whoever left those bruises? Having someone around you all the time will get rid of them soon enough.”
Froggy's pen fell out of his hand as he nearly froze, before he jumped at the clatter on the wooden table. He snatched it back up and coughed into his elbow, ignorant to the flash of curiosity in Grox's eyes. He bit his lip and swallowed roughly.
“That’s none of your business,” he did his best to suppress the wobble in his voice and discreetly pull up the collar of his shirt, “whatever, it doesn’t matter, I’m still not doing it.” Froggy tried not to look at him.
Dramatic whines of disappoint and a slumped body in his peripheral vision almost swayed him to look up again, but he managed to brush him off.
“Okay, what if I pay you? Or pay for every ‘date?’” Grox suggested exasperatedly but succeeded as Froggy's head snapped up at a frankly embarrassing speed.
“…Hypothetically speaking, how much would you pay me?” his attempt at subtlety was pathetic, but contrary to popular belief, Froggy did have some dignity left.
It went out the window when Grox nonchalantly held up his phone, stipulating hundred dollars for each day, and every date all expenses paid. Froggy’s eyes bulged out of his head as he calculated how many dinners of meat he could get with that sort of cash.
“How long do you need me for?” all pretences of refinement vanished, only seriousness and a need for money/want for free food remained. Grox tapped his chin and pursed his lips in thought, looking into the distance.
“A month? We can change it later if needed, but around that long,” he leaned on his hand, amusement dancing in his eyes, but it didn’t matter, Froggy was already imagining everything he could do with that money.
“Okay, I’m in, deal,” he finally nodded, not noticing the small affectionate smile Grox donned, before his normal Cheshire cat grin replaced it, and he laughed.
“Let's go!” he stood up, eyes bright. But before he left, he suddenly grabbed at Froggy’s notebook and pen, ignoring his protests, and opened to a blank page, scribbling on it.
After a minute, he smiled in satisfaction and placed the pen down, shutting the book on it and saluting Froggy.
“I have business elsewhere now, but we can discuss details tomorrow, frog dude,” he said playfully, “don’t forget to call me~!” and with another mischievous wink, he took off.
After a moment of sitting in confused silence, Froggy blinked and looked around. He almost didn’t believe that that just happened. He shook his head, just to make sure he was awake, and even pinched himself. His nails barely made a dent in his skin, and he frowned.
But there was solid proof that Grox had just asked Froggy to fake date him.
When Froggy curiously opened his notebook, still bookmarked by his pens, in bright blue writing, surrounded by hearts and sparkles, was the taller man’s phone number. And it was definitely meant for Froggy too, judging by how it was addressed to him, in an equally embarrassing manner, with a bad, and admittedly cute rendition of him with his tongue sticking out and somehow, even more hearts.
Froggy groaned, letting his head fall onto the open page, not even caring about the noise it made or how his brain rattled around inside his skull.
What in the world did he just get himself into?
_______
_______
“You did what?!” His nerdy villager friend practically screamed, and the other, way older one, clung to the table’s edge, trying to stay upright through his laughter.
Froggy winced at how loud they were being. Sure, he had expected it, but it still hurt his ears.
The three friends were sitting in a mcdonald’s restaurant, The old man’s choice for the day as he demanded something oily for lunch. They were cramped into a small corner booth.
It had only been a few hours since he agreed to fake date Grox, but he realised that maybe he was in over his head.
“It’s not that serious,” he tried to say casually, taking a bite of his chicken burger, “it’ll just be a month, and–”
“A month is still too long to be, doing whatever this is!” they interrupted him, accusingly waving the burgers in their hands at him.
“Hey,” he frowned and retaliated, “I’ll be fine, and if worse comes to worst, I’ll just ‘break up’ with him.” He shrugged and shovelled more fries into his mouth in an attempt to deflect.
“Wait a minute,” his old friend scrambled to sit up and fell into a coughing fit as more giggles bubbled from his throat.
The smart one of the group sighed and pushed over his large cup of cola. “Is this guy hot though?”
“That’s not the important part–!”
“I mean–”
Froggy and the nerd turned to glare at each-other. Froggy stuck his tongue at him; he flicked a fry at the others face in response.
“Okay, well,” The old dude snickered, and picked up the cup, “if he’s attractive, and he’s even paying you just to do this, I say go for it. Free dinner and getting paid just for walking around and holding hands.” He shrugged and took a languid sip.
“Actually, speaking of which, you haven’t told us exactly who this is, dimwit.” The nerd narrowed his eyes at Froggy suspiciously. He laughed nervously and pushed his fries around feebly.
“His name is Grox,” his face grew warm as he remembered the man and how annoyingly smooth he was, “he’s eighteen years old, goes to school with us, I can’t remember what year he is.”
His two friends, soon to be ex-friends, stared at him expectantly, one kinder than the other, clearly waiting for more information.
“And he’s also the son of the god of all wither skeletons,” he said, hesitating.
“Oh, him!” His old friend exclaimed with a mouth full of fries, “you’re right, he is hot. Not my type, but undeniably hot. Wait and he’s asking you to be his fake boyfriend? Even after seeing seeing how you look like? This is basically winning the lottery, just do it!”
He groaned; he really needed to find new friends.
“Why does he want you specifically to do it anyways,” the nerds green eyes pierced into his soul and a shudder ran up his spine.
Froggy kept his eyes down and moved the food around on his plate with a small frown.
He… didn’t actually know.
_______
_______
That evening, Froggy trudged back home slowly, only two books in his arms and his bag hanging heavy on his shoulder. Tired from both his day out, and the amount of overthinking he did, he stretched out his sore forearms, groaning in pain.
Even after lunch, no; especially after lunch, he had no idea what to do next.
He supposed that he could just say no, but Grox seemed so happy that he accepted. And not to mention the handsome reward… but it was such a strange arrangement. The sheer oddity of it was enough to warrant suspicion.
Was he even allowed to tell his friends?
What if that made Grox angry? His arms clenched harder around his books and the edges dug into his skin and flesh, leaving red marks. The sky was already a deep orange colour by the time he arrived home, the sun sinking low into the distance.
Walking up to his door, he clumsily pulled out his keys and managed to shove the right one in, on the second try.
Walking into the dark house, he glanced at the living room, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the dark. As he expected, loud arguing about some sort of mission could be heard from the kitchen.
He bit back a sigh and quickly walked into his room, placing his bag and books on the nearest surface he could get to. When he turned around to close the door and get comfortable on his bed, another person had emerged from the hallway.
One of the elders, clearly analyzing Froggy’s school supplies, the books and lastly the black uniform he was wearing in disapproval, or at least confusion. No one in the group really understood what Froggy was doing when he was away, but there was no way anyone would disapprove with the orders from higher up.
Froggy stood still and instinctively puffed out his cheeks. He wanted to slap himself for this nervous gesture but managed to keep a hold of himself in order to not look even more foolish, until the elder silently made his way back out of the room, quietly closing the door behind them.
As soon as he hears the click of the door, confirming the fact that it’s closed he frowns and thinks, What… even was that? He's never thought someone would sneak up on him like that. That was kinda terrifying, like something that would happen when you sneak in after being at a party you didn’t tell anyone about. What was the point of that, he wonders? It's creepy.
His small bedroom wasn’t anything impressive by any means, a bed in the corner, a dresser next to it. It didn’t have much proof of life nowadays, but there were still some old books and weapons from his childhood miscellaneously displayed on a dusty shelf.
Moving on quickly, he plugged in his laptop and phone and changed for bed. Slipping under his green cover, he shuddered as he thought back to what had just happened.
Turning onto his side, his mind eventually slowed, and his breathing evened out.