fic: fairytales of yesterday (part 4 / ?)
title: fairytales of yesterday
pairing: colfer / criss
rating: nc-17 (for future parts)
word count: 3800 (this part)
summary: Darren's spent his whole life (literally) looking for the perfect fairytale, but will he miss out on what's been in front of him, all this time?
a/n: thanks so much to alex for beta-ing and helping me choose a name for the magazine ily
PROLOGUE / PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3
**
They walked and walked and walked, the streets streaming happily by them as if oblivious to their existence. The people who graced their charming roads were not quite so ignorant, stopping to say hello every so often, mostly to Christopher who seemed to know everyone.
Magdalena, herself, didn’t get out much, preferring to stay home with her family, content to pass her hours looking after her mother and sisters or reading. Stories were her very favourite thing and got her through when the days felt too sad and lonely to bear. Some days it was hard to be happy, knowing what she knew. But with all her friends and characters, she knew, at least, she would never be truly alone.
However, this meant that she didn’t know many people and was very shy. She and Christopher walked mostly in silence and Magdalene felt a little embarrassed about her shyness, knowing he must know many beautiful, happy, talkative ladies who would be much better company - and he was so kind, still, doing her such a big favour.
And yet, words never seemed to want to fall.
**
Winter fell into spring, and spring fell into summer, words into songs, into music, into melodies. The syllables wrapped themselves around Darren like an irrepressible bind and he was writing, for the first time, like he couldn’t stop - the words were inescapable. Once he’d opened himself up to the possibilities they were flowing in and every week, like an addition, he was slipping an envelope into Chris’s locker, filled with words poured straight from his soul.
Some passages were good, some so awful Chris couldn’t even publish them, but it was like a drug - Darren couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.
But he didn’t want to stop.
Somehow, writing, though he could compare it to an addition, simultaneously, paradoxically, was the closest thing he had found to breathing easy since leaving San Fransisco. It had been what, two years now? His parents would often say it felt like no time at all, but to Darren it so had. Everything was different now. He hadn’t spoken to Charlene in months, her letters coming out only at holidays. He sometimes felt sad when he realised how much he had changed but, in a way, he was happier now, feeling like he’d found a piece of himself he hadn’t even known he had. Like looking down one day and finding a third hand attached to his wrist - oh hey, I can do good things with this.
He was still a child at heart, no matter how much his parents insisted he had grown up.
He kept playing his guitar just as much as he always had. It wasn’t until the end of his Sophomore year, though, that he found the courage to pursue his music through school, joining the school orchestra with his violin that he had sadly neglected over the past year. He still practiced every now and again, but was a little rusty. The school seemed somehow satisfied with him, though.
He made a few... well, not friends, but acquaintances, through the group.
It wasn’t a big deal... except that it was.
As much as he swore he’d never settle into life here, and never love it like home, he was finding it alarmingly easy.
After a while he thought he might forget why he resisted in the first place.
--
There’s a dragonfly on my windowsill and it scares me because it’s alive and I don’t know how to be anymore-
Darren let out a startled yelp as the notebook slid out from under him. He looked up with wide frightened eyes as a stranger stared down at him, her dyed red hair falling into her wide, smirking eyes as she met his gaze.
“So it was you?”
“So it was met what?” Darren frowned, trying to make a grab for the notebook but she snatched it out of his reach. “Give it back, please,” Darren pleaded but it was no use, the girl was already flipping through his paper.
“Of course,” the girl smirked, one hand planted sassily against her bony hip, “the only person who actually reads our magazine is the only other one who writes for it...”
Darren’s cheeks burned. “So you’re...”
“Maggie York,” she said, sticking a hand out to shake with Darren’s, “co-writer and editor of La Gaudière. And you’re Darren Criss,” she continued before Darren could even try and speak again, “and you’re a Freshman and you submit written pieces anonymously for who knows why and you’re the only one who reads our magazine, so how did you think we would not find out? It’s a journalist's job to know these things.”
“...Okay,” Darren said finally, not really sure what to say.
“Okay what?” Maggie shot back exasperatedly. “I want to know why you did it.”
“Did... what?”
“Pretended to be anonymous when we would clearly find you out... or maybe you really did want us to find you out...”
Darren blushed, embarrassed, ducking his eyes. “Please don’t tell Chris.”
Maggie raised her dark eyebrows at that. “Do you have a crush on him?” she asked bluntly and Darren’s head flew up, his eyes wide.
“I-what-um, no,” Darren blurted out, flustered. “I... I...” she raised her eyebrows even higher, “I don’t even know him.”
But boy, do I want to.
“Okay...” Maggie conceded suspiciously, as if she didn’t quite believe him, “well, good. That’s... that’s good. Just... don’t.”
Darren lowered his eyes, flush still painting his cheeks. “I won’t,” he whispered, although he wasn’t entirely sure that it was a promise he could keep. “Just... don’t tell him it’s me, okay?”
“But why, then?” Maggie asked frustratedly. “Your shit is good, Darren.”
Darren looked up, eyes wide and hopeful at that. He’d never shown his writing to anyone before, had no conception of what standard it was at. It was painfully bad in his own eyes, for the most part, unless it was an awfully constructed imitation which was even worse.
And yet, he kept doing it.
“You really think so?” Darren asked shyly. Maggie gave a short laugh.
“Yes, Darren,” she said a little tiredly, “I think it’s good, but don’t make me say it again.”
“Okay,” Darren murmured, feeling warmth spread through his chest.
I think it’s good.
Good.
“You should come to the game with us on Friday,” Maggie said suddenly, her tone conversational, but it was enough to startle Darren out of his slight reverie, wondering if he was hearing things.
“Pardon?”
Maggie gave him an incredulous look. “Did you really just say pardon?” Darren blushed and Maggie shook her head in bemusement. “I asked if you wanted to come to the game this Friday... football... our school...”
But Darren was still looking at her in confusion.
“But...” he blushed, “why?” What did they want from him?
Maggie’s expression softened.
“I know loneliness when I see it, Darren,” she said quietly. “Sometimes I’m lonely and fuck, if Chris isn’t... but at least we’re lonely together - and believe me, that’s far better than being really alone.”
Darren mulled over her words quietly, not speaking until she turned to leave once more.
“Put your address in your next submission and we’ll pick you up at six thirty.”
Darren could only watch her walk away, astounded.
Was she serious?
--
He never really did get a chance to ask her whether she was serious or not because he was a Sophomore and she was a junior and they had no classes together. But he did (with a slightly shaky hand) add in his address to his submission that week.
kiss in the night, steal the sunlight, wrap your lover in your arms and hold them tight / cut away the binds and make up for lost time / hide your guns pretend the day is done / neglect to tell them all you’re running from...
He didn’t work up the courage to ask his mom about it until Thursday, the day before the game. He was nervous, having received no reply or signal that Maggie or Chris had actually got the message but decided to go ahead with it anyway.
He asked her after school, finding her out in the garden, digging up weeds methodically. It was a process he knew she found cathartic, although he had never really understood it himself. He did love flowers - just not the dirt, so much.
“Hey, mom,” he ventured carefully, not wanting to frighten her as she looked so engrossed in her work. She looked up with a surprised smile that tugged at the guilt in his heart.
“Hey, honey,” she greeted him warmly, setting her shovel aside to give him her full attention. “What’s up?”
Back in San Fran, Darren had always come straight to see his mom as soon as he was done with school. He loved helping her make dinner and doing chores around the house, chattering away about his day. But since they moved, they hadn’t really had that anymore. At first it was the resentment that had fractured a tiny rift in the strength of their relationship and then the time that loosened the threads. That with his mother working now and his new found appreciation for spending every afternoon holed up in his room with his music blaring and pages upon pages scrawled with writing, they hardly spoke at all anymore.
“I just wanted to ask you if it was alright if I went out on Saturday night?”
Her first response was a crinkled look of confusion. “Out?” she repeated.
“A... um... some friends,” Darren struggled over the word - he really wasn’t sure he could call them that, “asked me if I wanted to go out with them this Friday... to the school football game.”
His mother’s face lit up in immediate excitement. “Oh, of course, sweetie! Your brother is always off to those things...”
Yes, Darren thought with a grimace, of course he was. Fucking perfect Chuck, with his amazing group of popular friends... mother’s favourite...
But his bitter thoughts were dispelled by the radiant smile that swept across his mother’s face.
“You know, Dare, I’m really happy to see you going out,” she continued. “I know you have friends, in your band-”
“Orchestra,” Darren couldn’t help but mutter.
“-and classes, but you never seem to see them outside school.” She tilted her head, examining him with a gentle eye. “It’ll be good for you to get out some time. I know you study hard but you’ve got to let yourself breathe sometimes, son.”
If only she knew...
“Thanks, mom,” he forced out, ducking down to hug her quickly. She hugged him back, her hands warm against his back.
“Any time, sweetheart.”
--
Friday night Darren found himself pacing in his room. He had no idea what to wear to something like this - and honestly, his clothes were the least of his worries. There was no way of hiding from them now that they both knew he was the writer. He had already dealt with Maggie but he could only imagine what Chris might say...
Well, actually he couldn’t. He had no freaking idea.
What if he hated his writing? What if Maggie only said that to lull him into some false sense of security that she genuinely liked him and inviting him out tonight was only part of some elaborate plot to humiliate him in front of the whole school?
Fuck, he was thinking too much again.
He ended up dressing casually, just in a t-shirt and jeans and ran a brush through his hair for the first time in too long. He tried to calm himself down as the minutes fell by, inching closer and closer to six thirty. He sat on his bed, strumming lightly at his guitar, not even sure of the song he was playing until he started singing along.
There you see her sitting there across the way... she don’t got a lot to say but there’s something about her... you don’t know why but you’re dying to try you wanna kiss the girl...
He had to laugh at himself when he figured it out and was relieved to feel some of the tension melt away as he continued to sing until he was belting out the song from one of his favourite movies.
Shalallala my oh my looks like the boy’s too shy ain’t gonna kiss the girl....
He was so wrapped up in the song he didn’t realise the time until he heard the horn beeping outside his window and his mom’s voice calling up the stairs.
“Dare! Honey, your friends are here!”
Blushing a little, Darren tossed his guitar aside and grabbed his jacket off the hook, racing down the stairs.
“Coming!”
His mom intercepted him on the way out, smiling broadly as she fixed the lapels on his jacket, shaking her head fondly.
“Darling, why do you have to wear this ratty old thing?” she chided and Darren tried to shake her off, stretching up to kiss her cheek.
“It’s fine, Mama,” he insisted, flashing her a quick smile before hurrying out, not wanting to keep them waiting.
The car they’d arrived in was an old pickup truck in a bad need of a paint job. There was music pouring out the window and Maggie was grinning as she leant out of the passenger seat’s window.
“Hurry up,” she teased, “we don’t have all night.”
Blushing a little, Darren jogged across the grass before he reached the car, hopping in the backseat.
“Hey,” Chris greeted him from the front seat, shooting him a grin in the mirror, “Darren, right?”
“Darren,” Darren confirmed, making the others laugh as Chris pulled the car into drive.
“And you’re the one who’s been sending us anonymous submissions for the past year or so?”
Darren’s breath caught, not expecting the blatant accusation. Heat crept up his neck and he can’t help shifting his gaze, shrugging.
“I guess there’s no point lying about it, is there?” he muttered.
“I don’t know why you would want to,” Chris said breezily. “I can’t say I’ve ever met anyone who didn’t want recognition for their work.”
Darren didn’t have an answer to that.
“Doesn’t matter,” Chris said easily. “What matters is that this magazine means a lot to me, and if it’s going to be my ticket to Yale then some changes need to be made.”
“Here we go,” Maggie groaned with an exaggerated eye roll, “you and your grand plans...”
“Nothing major,” Chris insisted. “But I’ve decided we need to branch out and target more audiences. No one reads our paper because no one cares. We need to cover football games, cheerleading competitions, etcetera etcetera, give our fabulous athletes the recognition they definitely don’t deserve - once we have them reading the paper, everyone will think it’s cool.”
Darren nodded, mulling the idea over in his head. “That’s pretty smart, actually,” he admitted.
“I know right,” Chris grinned, shooting Darren a wink in the mirror, making him blush. Was he always this bold?
The stadium is packed by the time they arrived and Maggie and Chris insisted on getting food and drinks beforehand so they ended up getting shitty seats towards the back of the stands. But Darren decided he liked it better this way, being able to see the crowd beneath them. It was his first football game and he’d never really thought about how many people went to these things. He could see Chuck clearly down the front with his friends and the crowd is littered with his fellow classmates.
So this is what he’d been missing out on.
He didn’t think he’d like it, but he did. He’d always loved large crowds, the colossal impact of their group energy, a constant hum around him. He loved the loud wall of sound, encasing them tight under the bright stadium lights. It was almost like a stage, and these players, walking out to the centre of the arena were performers - like stars, practically gods in the eyes of their worshipping fellow pupils. Darren might not understand the importance behind football but he could certainly see the beauty in it from the moment that the referee blew his whistle and they were off, running in patterns Darren couldn’t quite follow.
“Do you like football, Darren?” Chris asked from beside him, drawing him from his train of thought.
Darren blushed a bit as he shook his head honestly. “I’ve never really... sports aren’t really my thing,” he stammered awkwardly. Chris gave a fair smile.
“I guess it’s an acquired taste,” he conceded.
Maggie let out a loud snort from his other side. “Like you would know,” she laughed, “you only like the players.”
Darren gaped as Chris shrugged, grinning a little. “I won’t deny it,” Chris said, shooting Darren a wink that made his cheeks flare up.
Darren wasn’t blind. It was plain as day how different Clovis was from San Francisco. People around here didn’t go around waving rainbow flags unless they had a death wish - and yet, here was Chris, boldly letting him know he was into guys.
Fuck, if that didn’t make him ten times cooler than Darren already thought he was.
“Well, one player anyway,” Maggie teased, giving Chris a nudge as they gaze down at the players below. Chris rolled his eyes as Maggie giggled, leaning over Chris to inform Darren. “He’s got a crush on the team captain.”
Darren tried to look surprised despite the inexplicable ache weighing down on his chest. “Oh?”
“His name is Grant,” Maggie continued, despite Chris trying to hush her, blushing, “he’s dreamy as fuck, popular, smart, athletic...”
“Probably straight,” Chris chimed in, rolling his eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” he said to Darren. “Forget she said anything...”
As if he could forget, though.
In fact, he couldn’t stop thinking about it the whole game. Every time he got swept up in the action he’d start to wonder which one was Grant, whether he really was straight and what would happen if he wasn’t, what it would mean for the school if ‘the most popular guy in school’ started going out with... well, Chris.
Not that it mattered - not that any of it mattered.
He had always been too curious for his own good.
“Which one is Grant?” Darren couldn’t help but ask Chris about halfway through the game, his curiosity all too much.
“The one wearing the number four jersey,” Chris murmured. Darren followed to where he was pointing and he felt something drop low in his stomach. Yeah, he was definitely dreamy...
Why did Darren even care?
--
Eventually the game drew to a close, thankfully, as Darren found himself losing interest. Chris and Maggie were talking for half of it and Darren found it hard to follow their conversation when they were talking about people he didn’t even know.
When the game was over it turned out their school won and they were treated to half the team stripping their shirts and running around the pitch. Grant’s shirt, however, remained on.
“He’s far too classy for that,” Chris sighed, sinking a little into his palm.
(Good thing he didn’t - for Grant anyway - because the other guys were given detentions for it).
In the end, though, it was Chris who turned to him as the stadium emptied out.
“We always get ice cream after the games,” Chris informed him. “You in?”
Warmth spread through Darren’s chest as he grinned, nodding happily. “I’d love to.”
--
Their regular ice cream stop ended up being a cute little diner not far from the school. It was cute, Darren thought, and nice and quiet this time of night, although there were a few families there.
They got a small table in the corner and ordered before settling in. Darren couldn’t help but notice the way Chris kept glancing around almost nervously at the rest of the diner, almost as if looking or waiting for something - or someone.
“Grant comes here sometimes,” Maggie informed him in a hushed whisper, leaning over, “with his little sister.”
“That’s cute,” Darren said, even if he wanted to scowl. He’d been thinking about it and decided that the reason that the thought of Grant made him feel so bad was that he didn’t want Chris to get hurt. He was a good guy and didn't’ deserve to have his feelings get upset by some guy who might not ever be able to like him back.
Unfortunately, minus the probably straight factor, Grant seemed to get more perfect by the minute.
Their orders came minutes later and Darren let himself forget all about Grant as they gorged themselves on ice cream, Darren relaxing somewhat and letting himself join in the conversation as Maggie and Chris informed him on the happenings of their grade. He struggled a little to keep up but they tried to fill him in best as possible, giving him little characteristics to remember people by. It was sweet, really, the effort they put in to try and include him, once he had made that effort to try and include himself. It was like they actually wanted to be his friend.
God, he had missed that.
They must have been out for hours by the time one of them let out a yawn before checking the clock and realising that they should be getting home.
“Chris is staying over at my place tonight,” Maggie said said conversationally as they headed back to the car. “You should come, too.”
Darren struggled to play it cool and not let his surprise show as he climbed into the backseat of Chris’s pickup. Maggie climbed into the front and Chris slid smoothly into the driver’s seat, starting the engine.
“Yeah, you should,” he said lightly, but the admission of his agreement was more weighted to Darren than any of them could know.
It was tempting - so tempting... but he knew he shouldn't. It would be awkward. He didn’t know them very well, yet. Yet.
And besides, he hadn’t even asked his mom!
“I can’t,” Darren said, offering her an apologetic smile.
Maggie shrugged, smiling back. “Next time, then.”
Darren nodded, feeling the warmth of the acceptance seep through his chest as Chris casually flicked on the radio as he pulled the car into drive, looking effortlessly cool as he began to hum along to the music pouring from the speakers while Darren meanwhile internally freaked out over the unspoken promise that hung between the three of them.
Next time.
“Now my life is sweet like cinnamon...” Chris’s voice was louder now as Maggie joined in and Darren couldn’t help but chiming in alongside them, the lyrics all too real on his lips.
“Like a fucking dream I’m living in...”
--
PART 5
pairing: colfer / criss
rating: nc-17 (for future parts)
word count: 3800 (this part)
summary: Darren's spent his whole life (literally) looking for the perfect fairytale, but will he miss out on what's been in front of him, all this time?
a/n: thanks so much to alex for beta-ing and helping me choose a name for the magazine ily
PROLOGUE / PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3
**
They walked and walked and walked, the streets streaming happily by them as if oblivious to their existence. The people who graced their charming roads were not quite so ignorant, stopping to say hello every so often, mostly to Christopher who seemed to know everyone.
Magdalena, herself, didn’t get out much, preferring to stay home with her family, content to pass her hours looking after her mother and sisters or reading. Stories were her very favourite thing and got her through when the days felt too sad and lonely to bear. Some days it was hard to be happy, knowing what she knew. But with all her friends and characters, she knew, at least, she would never be truly alone.
However, this meant that she didn’t know many people and was very shy. She and Christopher walked mostly in silence and Magdalene felt a little embarrassed about her shyness, knowing he must know many beautiful, happy, talkative ladies who would be much better company - and he was so kind, still, doing her such a big favour.
And yet, words never seemed to want to fall.
**
Winter fell into spring, and spring fell into summer, words into songs, into music, into melodies. The syllables wrapped themselves around Darren like an irrepressible bind and he was writing, for the first time, like he couldn’t stop - the words were inescapable. Once he’d opened himself up to the possibilities they were flowing in and every week, like an addition, he was slipping an envelope into Chris’s locker, filled with words poured straight from his soul.
Some passages were good, some so awful Chris couldn’t even publish them, but it was like a drug - Darren couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.
But he didn’t want to stop.
Somehow, writing, though he could compare it to an addition, simultaneously, paradoxically, was the closest thing he had found to breathing easy since leaving San Fransisco. It had been what, two years now? His parents would often say it felt like no time at all, but to Darren it so had. Everything was different now. He hadn’t spoken to Charlene in months, her letters coming out only at holidays. He sometimes felt sad when he realised how much he had changed but, in a way, he was happier now, feeling like he’d found a piece of himself he hadn’t even known he had. Like looking down one day and finding a third hand attached to his wrist - oh hey, I can do good things with this.
He was still a child at heart, no matter how much his parents insisted he had grown up.
He kept playing his guitar just as much as he always had. It wasn’t until the end of his Sophomore year, though, that he found the courage to pursue his music through school, joining the school orchestra with his violin that he had sadly neglected over the past year. He still practiced every now and again, but was a little rusty. The school seemed somehow satisfied with him, though.
He made a few... well, not friends, but acquaintances, through the group.
It wasn’t a big deal... except that it was.
As much as he swore he’d never settle into life here, and never love it like home, he was finding it alarmingly easy.
After a while he thought he might forget why he resisted in the first place.
--
There’s a dragonfly on my windowsill and it scares me because it’s alive and I don’t know how to be anymore-
Darren let out a startled yelp as the notebook slid out from under him. He looked up with wide frightened eyes as a stranger stared down at him, her dyed red hair falling into her wide, smirking eyes as she met his gaze.
“So it was you?”
“So it was met what?” Darren frowned, trying to make a grab for the notebook but she snatched it out of his reach. “Give it back, please,” Darren pleaded but it was no use, the girl was already flipping through his paper.
“Of course,” the girl smirked, one hand planted sassily against her bony hip, “the only person who actually reads our magazine is the only other one who writes for it...”
Darren’s cheeks burned. “So you’re...”
“Maggie York,” she said, sticking a hand out to shake with Darren’s, “co-writer and editor of La Gaudière. And you’re Darren Criss,” she continued before Darren could even try and speak again, “and you’re a Freshman and you submit written pieces anonymously for who knows why and you’re the only one who reads our magazine, so how did you think we would not find out? It’s a journalist's job to know these things.”
“...Okay,” Darren said finally, not really sure what to say.
“Okay what?” Maggie shot back exasperatedly. “I want to know why you did it.”
“Did... what?”
“Pretended to be anonymous when we would clearly find you out... or maybe you really did want us to find you out...”
Darren blushed, embarrassed, ducking his eyes. “Please don’t tell Chris.”
Maggie raised her dark eyebrows at that. “Do you have a crush on him?” she asked bluntly and Darren’s head flew up, his eyes wide.
“I-what-um, no,” Darren blurted out, flustered. “I... I...” she raised her eyebrows even higher, “I don’t even know him.”
But boy, do I want to.
“Okay...” Maggie conceded suspiciously, as if she didn’t quite believe him, “well, good. That’s... that’s good. Just... don’t.”
Darren lowered his eyes, flush still painting his cheeks. “I won’t,” he whispered, although he wasn’t entirely sure that it was a promise he could keep. “Just... don’t tell him it’s me, okay?”
“But why, then?” Maggie asked frustratedly. “Your shit is good, Darren.”
Darren looked up, eyes wide and hopeful at that. He’d never shown his writing to anyone before, had no conception of what standard it was at. It was painfully bad in his own eyes, for the most part, unless it was an awfully constructed imitation which was even worse.
And yet, he kept doing it.
“You really think so?” Darren asked shyly. Maggie gave a short laugh.
“Yes, Darren,” she said a little tiredly, “I think it’s good, but don’t make me say it again.”
“Okay,” Darren murmured, feeling warmth spread through his chest.
I think it’s good.
Good.
“You should come to the game with us on Friday,” Maggie said suddenly, her tone conversational, but it was enough to startle Darren out of his slight reverie, wondering if he was hearing things.
“Pardon?”
Maggie gave him an incredulous look. “Did you really just say pardon?” Darren blushed and Maggie shook her head in bemusement. “I asked if you wanted to come to the game this Friday... football... our school...”
But Darren was still looking at her in confusion.
“But...” he blushed, “why?” What did they want from him?
Maggie’s expression softened.
“I know loneliness when I see it, Darren,” she said quietly. “Sometimes I’m lonely and fuck, if Chris isn’t... but at least we’re lonely together - and believe me, that’s far better than being really alone.”
Darren mulled over her words quietly, not speaking until she turned to leave once more.
“Put your address in your next submission and we’ll pick you up at six thirty.”
Darren could only watch her walk away, astounded.
Was she serious?
--
He never really did get a chance to ask her whether she was serious or not because he was a Sophomore and she was a junior and they had no classes together. But he did (with a slightly shaky hand) add in his address to his submission that week.
kiss in the night, steal the sunlight, wrap your lover in your arms and hold them tight / cut away the binds and make up for lost time / hide your guns pretend the day is done / neglect to tell them all you’re running from...
He didn’t work up the courage to ask his mom about it until Thursday, the day before the game. He was nervous, having received no reply or signal that Maggie or Chris had actually got the message but decided to go ahead with it anyway.
He asked her after school, finding her out in the garden, digging up weeds methodically. It was a process he knew she found cathartic, although he had never really understood it himself. He did love flowers - just not the dirt, so much.
“Hey, mom,” he ventured carefully, not wanting to frighten her as she looked so engrossed in her work. She looked up with a surprised smile that tugged at the guilt in his heart.
“Hey, honey,” she greeted him warmly, setting her shovel aside to give him her full attention. “What’s up?”
Back in San Fran, Darren had always come straight to see his mom as soon as he was done with school. He loved helping her make dinner and doing chores around the house, chattering away about his day. But since they moved, they hadn’t really had that anymore. At first it was the resentment that had fractured a tiny rift in the strength of their relationship and then the time that loosened the threads. That with his mother working now and his new found appreciation for spending every afternoon holed up in his room with his music blaring and pages upon pages scrawled with writing, they hardly spoke at all anymore.
“I just wanted to ask you if it was alright if I went out on Saturday night?”
Her first response was a crinkled look of confusion. “Out?” she repeated.
“A... um... some friends,” Darren struggled over the word - he really wasn’t sure he could call them that, “asked me if I wanted to go out with them this Friday... to the school football game.”
His mother’s face lit up in immediate excitement. “Oh, of course, sweetie! Your brother is always off to those things...”
Yes, Darren thought with a grimace, of course he was. Fucking perfect Chuck, with his amazing group of popular friends... mother’s favourite...
But his bitter thoughts were dispelled by the radiant smile that swept across his mother’s face.
“You know, Dare, I’m really happy to see you going out,” she continued. “I know you have friends, in your band-”
“Orchestra,” Darren couldn’t help but mutter.
“-and classes, but you never seem to see them outside school.” She tilted her head, examining him with a gentle eye. “It’ll be good for you to get out some time. I know you study hard but you’ve got to let yourself breathe sometimes, son.”
If only she knew...
“Thanks, mom,” he forced out, ducking down to hug her quickly. She hugged him back, her hands warm against his back.
“Any time, sweetheart.”
--
Friday night Darren found himself pacing in his room. He had no idea what to wear to something like this - and honestly, his clothes were the least of his worries. There was no way of hiding from them now that they both knew he was the writer. He had already dealt with Maggie but he could only imagine what Chris might say...
Well, actually he couldn’t. He had no freaking idea.
What if he hated his writing? What if Maggie only said that to lull him into some false sense of security that she genuinely liked him and inviting him out tonight was only part of some elaborate plot to humiliate him in front of the whole school?
Fuck, he was thinking too much again.
He ended up dressing casually, just in a t-shirt and jeans and ran a brush through his hair for the first time in too long. He tried to calm himself down as the minutes fell by, inching closer and closer to six thirty. He sat on his bed, strumming lightly at his guitar, not even sure of the song he was playing until he started singing along.
There you see her sitting there across the way... she don’t got a lot to say but there’s something about her... you don’t know why but you’re dying to try you wanna kiss the girl...
He had to laugh at himself when he figured it out and was relieved to feel some of the tension melt away as he continued to sing until he was belting out the song from one of his favourite movies.
Shalallala my oh my looks like the boy’s too shy ain’t gonna kiss the girl....
He was so wrapped up in the song he didn’t realise the time until he heard the horn beeping outside his window and his mom’s voice calling up the stairs.
“Dare! Honey, your friends are here!”
Blushing a little, Darren tossed his guitar aside and grabbed his jacket off the hook, racing down the stairs.
“Coming!”
His mom intercepted him on the way out, smiling broadly as she fixed the lapels on his jacket, shaking her head fondly.
“Darling, why do you have to wear this ratty old thing?” she chided and Darren tried to shake her off, stretching up to kiss her cheek.
“It’s fine, Mama,” he insisted, flashing her a quick smile before hurrying out, not wanting to keep them waiting.
The car they’d arrived in was an old pickup truck in a bad need of a paint job. There was music pouring out the window and Maggie was grinning as she leant out of the passenger seat’s window.
“Hurry up,” she teased, “we don’t have all night.”
Blushing a little, Darren jogged across the grass before he reached the car, hopping in the backseat.
“Hey,” Chris greeted him from the front seat, shooting him a grin in the mirror, “Darren, right?”
“Darren,” Darren confirmed, making the others laugh as Chris pulled the car into drive.
“And you’re the one who’s been sending us anonymous submissions for the past year or so?”
Darren’s breath caught, not expecting the blatant accusation. Heat crept up his neck and he can’t help shifting his gaze, shrugging.
“I guess there’s no point lying about it, is there?” he muttered.
“I don’t know why you would want to,” Chris said breezily. “I can’t say I’ve ever met anyone who didn’t want recognition for their work.”
Darren didn’t have an answer to that.
“Doesn’t matter,” Chris said easily. “What matters is that this magazine means a lot to me, and if it’s going to be my ticket to Yale then some changes need to be made.”
“Here we go,” Maggie groaned with an exaggerated eye roll, “you and your grand plans...”
“Nothing major,” Chris insisted. “But I’ve decided we need to branch out and target more audiences. No one reads our paper because no one cares. We need to cover football games, cheerleading competitions, etcetera etcetera, give our fabulous athletes the recognition they definitely don’t deserve - once we have them reading the paper, everyone will think it’s cool.”
Darren nodded, mulling the idea over in his head. “That’s pretty smart, actually,” he admitted.
“I know right,” Chris grinned, shooting Darren a wink in the mirror, making him blush. Was he always this bold?
The stadium is packed by the time they arrived and Maggie and Chris insisted on getting food and drinks beforehand so they ended up getting shitty seats towards the back of the stands. But Darren decided he liked it better this way, being able to see the crowd beneath them. It was his first football game and he’d never really thought about how many people went to these things. He could see Chuck clearly down the front with his friends and the crowd is littered with his fellow classmates.
So this is what he’d been missing out on.
He didn’t think he’d like it, but he did. He’d always loved large crowds, the colossal impact of their group energy, a constant hum around him. He loved the loud wall of sound, encasing them tight under the bright stadium lights. It was almost like a stage, and these players, walking out to the centre of the arena were performers - like stars, practically gods in the eyes of their worshipping fellow pupils. Darren might not understand the importance behind football but he could certainly see the beauty in it from the moment that the referee blew his whistle and they were off, running in patterns Darren couldn’t quite follow.
“Do you like football, Darren?” Chris asked from beside him, drawing him from his train of thought.
Darren blushed a bit as he shook his head honestly. “I’ve never really... sports aren’t really my thing,” he stammered awkwardly. Chris gave a fair smile.
“I guess it’s an acquired taste,” he conceded.
Maggie let out a loud snort from his other side. “Like you would know,” she laughed, “you only like the players.”
Darren gaped as Chris shrugged, grinning a little. “I won’t deny it,” Chris said, shooting Darren a wink that made his cheeks flare up.
Darren wasn’t blind. It was plain as day how different Clovis was from San Francisco. People around here didn’t go around waving rainbow flags unless they had a death wish - and yet, here was Chris, boldly letting him know he was into guys.
Fuck, if that didn’t make him ten times cooler than Darren already thought he was.
“Well, one player anyway,” Maggie teased, giving Chris a nudge as they gaze down at the players below. Chris rolled his eyes as Maggie giggled, leaning over Chris to inform Darren. “He’s got a crush on the team captain.”
Darren tried to look surprised despite the inexplicable ache weighing down on his chest. “Oh?”
“His name is Grant,” Maggie continued, despite Chris trying to hush her, blushing, “he’s dreamy as fuck, popular, smart, athletic...”
“Probably straight,” Chris chimed in, rolling his eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” he said to Darren. “Forget she said anything...”
As if he could forget, though.
In fact, he couldn’t stop thinking about it the whole game. Every time he got swept up in the action he’d start to wonder which one was Grant, whether he really was straight and what would happen if he wasn’t, what it would mean for the school if ‘the most popular guy in school’ started going out with... well, Chris.
Not that it mattered - not that any of it mattered.
He had always been too curious for his own good.
“Which one is Grant?” Darren couldn’t help but ask Chris about halfway through the game, his curiosity all too much.
“The one wearing the number four jersey,” Chris murmured. Darren followed to where he was pointing and he felt something drop low in his stomach. Yeah, he was definitely dreamy...
Why did Darren even care?
--
Eventually the game drew to a close, thankfully, as Darren found himself losing interest. Chris and Maggie were talking for half of it and Darren found it hard to follow their conversation when they were talking about people he didn’t even know.
When the game was over it turned out their school won and they were treated to half the team stripping their shirts and running around the pitch. Grant’s shirt, however, remained on.
“He’s far too classy for that,” Chris sighed, sinking a little into his palm.
(Good thing he didn’t - for Grant anyway - because the other guys were given detentions for it).
In the end, though, it was Chris who turned to him as the stadium emptied out.
“We always get ice cream after the games,” Chris informed him. “You in?”
Warmth spread through Darren’s chest as he grinned, nodding happily. “I’d love to.”
--
Their regular ice cream stop ended up being a cute little diner not far from the school. It was cute, Darren thought, and nice and quiet this time of night, although there were a few families there.
They got a small table in the corner and ordered before settling in. Darren couldn’t help but notice the way Chris kept glancing around almost nervously at the rest of the diner, almost as if looking or waiting for something - or someone.
“Grant comes here sometimes,” Maggie informed him in a hushed whisper, leaning over, “with his little sister.”
“That’s cute,” Darren said, even if he wanted to scowl. He’d been thinking about it and decided that the reason that the thought of Grant made him feel so bad was that he didn’t want Chris to get hurt. He was a good guy and didn't’ deserve to have his feelings get upset by some guy who might not ever be able to like him back.
Unfortunately, minus the probably straight factor, Grant seemed to get more perfect by the minute.
Their orders came minutes later and Darren let himself forget all about Grant as they gorged themselves on ice cream, Darren relaxing somewhat and letting himself join in the conversation as Maggie and Chris informed him on the happenings of their grade. He struggled a little to keep up but they tried to fill him in best as possible, giving him little characteristics to remember people by. It was sweet, really, the effort they put in to try and include him, once he had made that effort to try and include himself. It was like they actually wanted to be his friend.
God, he had missed that.
They must have been out for hours by the time one of them let out a yawn before checking the clock and realising that they should be getting home.
“Chris is staying over at my place tonight,” Maggie said said conversationally as they headed back to the car. “You should come, too.”
Darren struggled to play it cool and not let his surprise show as he climbed into the backseat of Chris’s pickup. Maggie climbed into the front and Chris slid smoothly into the driver’s seat, starting the engine.
“Yeah, you should,” he said lightly, but the admission of his agreement was more weighted to Darren than any of them could know.
It was tempting - so tempting... but he knew he shouldn't. It would be awkward. He didn’t know them very well, yet. Yet.
And besides, he hadn’t even asked his mom!
“I can’t,” Darren said, offering her an apologetic smile.
Maggie shrugged, smiling back. “Next time, then.”
Darren nodded, feeling the warmth of the acceptance seep through his chest as Chris casually flicked on the radio as he pulled the car into drive, looking effortlessly cool as he began to hum along to the music pouring from the speakers while Darren meanwhile internally freaked out over the unspoken promise that hung between the three of them.
Next time.
“Now my life is sweet like cinnamon...” Chris’s voice was louder now as Maggie joined in and Darren couldn’t help but chiming in alongside them, the lyrics all too real on his lips.
“Like a fucking dream I’m living in...”
--
PART 5