Work Text:
1985
Damon frowned at the reflection. He wasn’t popular at his school, he didn’t really want to be, anyways. But it did still upset him when people would pass and laugh, when they would kick him around. He didn’t want to be popular. But he didn’t want to be bullied, either.
As Damon fussed with his hair, he didn’t notice the boy standing at the sink beside him. The boy was staring down at his glasses, the object split in two. He was sniffling, wiping at his eyes repeatedly.
Damon had seen the boy around. He got bullied, maybe not as bad as Damon, but bullied. Mostly for his stutter, for his glasses, for being shy. Damon thought he was fine— they’d only talked once, and he had made fun of the boys shoes.
The boy hiccuped, making eye contact with Damon in the mirror. He whimpered quietly, and just stood there like a petrified deer.
“Are you okay?” Damon said, holding eye contact. “People suck, don’t they?”
The boys terrified gaze softened slightly, and he looked into the basin of the sink and clutched the sides. “Y-yeah. They do. I’m alright.”
“Can your glasses be fixed, you think?” Damon stuck his hand out to study the glasses. The boy set them in his palm. They were broken, not clean, either. “Yeah, they’re proper destroyed,” He handed them back. “Damon, by the way.”
“I’m Graham. I know who you are,” Graham blushed in a way that Damon couldn’t tell was a fluster and a hint of a crush. “You made fun of my shoes when we were little. And you get bullied.”
Damon grinned. “Yeah, that’s sums in up pretty well, huh?” He sat on the floor, back against the wall. “You skipping?”
“Probably,” Graham sat a distance away. “I don’t want to go back in there.”
“If it helps, you look good without glasses,” Damon’s eyes lingered on Grahams features, taking the boy in. “You look cuter.”
“Are you saying I’m ugly when I have them on?” Graham seemed serious, but then his face split into a grin and he chuckled. Damon laughed as well, but he couldn’t help but notice how red Graham had turned at the comment. “Thank you.”
“Fuckk, I’m so tired,” Damon complained, slumping into Graham. “I want to sleep.”
“You could sleep, if you want. No one ever goes into this bathroom— too out of the way. I’ll wake you if anyone walks in.”
“Really? You know if they find us together, we’ll probably be called gay,” Damon furrowed his brows. “We’ll probably be bullied worse.”
“I don’t care, at this point,” Graham opened and shut his mouth, looking away. When Damon pried, Graham just turned red. “Well, maybe they aren’t far off.”
Damon raised his eyebrows. “Takes guts to admit that. Props to you.”
“I guess. Just go to sleep, Damon.”
Damon’s sleep was dreamless— or, short enough that he didn’t remember the dream as Graham roused him from his slumber. “Damon,” the boy hissed. “Damon, it’s time to wake up.”
“Gimme a minute,” Damon groaned. He hid himself in Grahams shoulder for a few seconds, before sitting up straight. “Alright, what?”
“Two minutes until the bell,” Graham wiped his nose. He looked like he’d been crying a bit, and Damon made a brief glance at his shattered glasses that had been thrown across the room. Graham followed his gaze, eyes flickering down in embarrassment. He didn’t say anything about it.
“I know you just met me,” Damon began, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me. We’re in the same boat, you know.”
Graham wouldn’t mean Damon’s gaze. The boy stood up quickly and tossed a quick goodbye before scampering away.
Huh, odd, Damon thought. An odd boy.
—
The next day, they “accidentally” met up again. Damon slipped into the boys bathroom, and a grin spread across his face when he saw Graham. The boy was adjusting his glasses in the mirror when his eyes flicked over and his face flushed.
“Well, look who showed up again!” Damon said excitedly, smiling. Graham bit his lip to stifle a smile, but it didn’t do much. “You get picked on any today?”
“A little, but I guess that’s to be expected,” Graham sighed, rubbing his eyes. “My mum told me I had to be more responsible with my glasses, so I have to buy them myself.”
“That’s shite,” Damon snarled. “Hey, I can toss you some money, probably.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, like- a quid.”
Graham gave him a deadpanned look, smiling when Damon laughed at his expression. They laughed quietly. Damon liked Graham. Maybe more than he’d like to admit. Maybe in ways he didn’t want to confront.
The gentle flush of his cheeks to the way he reached up to fiddle with his glasses, even when they weren’t on his face, reflexively.
Damon couldn’t help but find it beautiful.
—
1990
“What’d you think you’d be doing if we never met?” Graham whispered, the breeze almost taking his words his it. Green grass sat beneath their heads as they gazed at the clouds and the blue sky— the sky that was about to start raining, guessing from the thick, gray clouds on the horizon.
“Well,” Damon went quiet. “Fuck, I dunno. Why hit me with the hard questions? Hm. I’d probably be working some shit job. I wouldn’t have tried to strive for more, I guess,” Damon’s pinky brushed against Grahams. They interlocked the finger, not meeting each others gaze. “What about you, Grah?”
“I’d probably be dead,” he whispered the words, as if he were ashamed. Damon turned his head, just staring at Graham. Graham turned his head, repeating, “I’d be dead.”
Damon pulled Graham closer, intertwining all their fingers. Graham just gazed at Damon. He felt bad— Damon had given a decent answer, and for some reason, Graham chose to dump.
“I’m glad you aren’t,” Damon kissed Grahams cheek, causing the younger boy to blush and flick his eyes away. “Truly.”
“Yeah, I believe you,” Graham excused. Damon grabbed his chin and pulled Graham’s focus onto him. “I mean it, Dames. I believe you.”
“I know you do,” Damon’s gaze kept flicking to Graham’s lips. Graham really wanted to lean in. He wanted to, very very bad. Damon, though, beat him to it. Their lips met, perfectly romantic. Damon’s hand moved to the back of Graham’s neck, while Graham’s fingers curled in the older man’s hair.
They pulled away, Graham gasping for air, eyes flicking all over Damon’s face. “Wh- Damon, you- do you like me?”
“I think so,” Damon blinked at Graham, kissing his neck. “I think I have for a while.”
—
1991
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, Graham!” Damon shouted at a very angry Graham. “Sorry your life is so fucking hard, I guess.”
“Fuck you, Damon! Seriously, what the fuck is up with you recently?” Graham tossed a shirt into his luggage. “You’ve been so fucking cocky and full of yourself since—“
“If you fucking bring Justine into this-“
“Well, is it not fucking true?” Graham was on the verge of tears, digging his palms into his eyes. “I just- I dunno what to do, Dames. Nothing is the same, nothing at all, and even you have changed.”
“Did you really want me to stay the same?”
“I never cared! I never cared that you were weird, that you were bullied! I thought you were so fucking cool, Day! It made no difference to me,” Graham faced Damon finally. He felt a bit bad for the people staying in the hotel room Next-door. “I loved you then, nothing has changed. I loved you when no one did. I still love you.”
Damon opened his mouth, then closed it. “I love you too, Graham. But I can’t-“
“I know, Damon. I can wait.”
—
1995
Graham didn’t mind the biting cold as the wind snapped at his face, didn’t mind the sensation at all. He welcomed it. Especially as he stared at the street below, six stories up.
He turned sharply as the door slammed open. “Graham,” Damon breathed. “Get the fuck down, now.”
“Why?” Graham started to cry. Why now? Why now, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
“I’m right here, Graham. You can talk to me. We can go to sleep, we can talk, anything you want. Anything, okay?”
“I want it to go back to how it used to be,” Graham whimpered. “And you’ve changed so much. You’ve grown into the man you are and I’m still me. Pathetic me.”
“That’s not true at all,” Damon stepped closer holding his palm out. “We can pretend we’ve changed, but when your glasses break, what does it remind you of? We both are still those boys in that bathroom, Graham.” Damon advanced a step closer.
“I don’t want- I just,” Graham laughed, but it was almost a snarl in frustration as he couldn’t describe what he wanted, what he didn’t. “Just don’t leave.”
“Never. Never, Graham. Not unless you want me to.”
“You will,” Graham sobbed. “You will sometime.”
“Only time can tell,” Damon intertwined his fingers with Grahams. He tugged him down, down into his embrace. Damon kissed Graham’s head, nuzzling his nose into the dark hair. “Only time.”