Wearing Some Kind of Disguise (2/2)
TITLE: Wearing Some Kind of Disguise(2/2)
AUTHOR: starflowers
Part One
Kevin had absolutely no intention of going to homecoming, obviously, which meant that Selena showed up at his doorstep with a dress crammed into her backpack and a pair of sensible heels, and marched him up to his room, picked out an outfit, and demanded he escort her.
Since the whole school thought they were dating, it really was the least they could do. And since his car privileges were still revoked, that meant hopping on his bike and riding down the street to Demi’s.
She was waiting on her front stepped, dressed like a princess, her bike waiting on the lawn, and she whooped when they saw them and hopped on, hurrying to catch up as they raced down the street. She had to tuck her dress up around her waist and so did Selena and Kevin didn’t even get distracted by their thighs as they pumped away. He was so gay it hurt sometimes.
“Got you this,” Demi said, breathless, as they shoved their bikes in the bike rack at school. She dug around in her purse and pulled out two wrist corsages, which matched the one she was wearing as well, and Selena giggled.
“Awesome,” she said. “Don’t even bitch, Kevin, you’re wearing it.”
He sighed, closed his mouth without a word, and let Demi fasten it to his wrist. He supposed it was kind of cool, and he was pretty lucky, having two dates, even if he hadn’t ever wanted to come at all.
The gym was vaguely decorated with streamers, there were tons of laser lights, and an overactive smoke machine. The punch was heavily spiked, the cookies were all gone by the time they slipped in, and the chaperone teachers were nowhere to be seen. It was all a pretty traditional thing for his school.
At first it was cool enough. The three of them hung out by the wall, judging other people’s dance moves, talking, giggling, and sipping the punch. Kevin didn’t drink much, generally, but the punch was really strong, and it went straight to his head, until he was giddy and a little tipsy.
Then Gabe Saporta, Selena’s creepy older (much older) boyfriend managed to sneak in and they disappeared, giggling together, and Kevin and Demi just shook their heads. They didn’t disapprove, though, because it was sort of an unspoken understanding that they were both a little jealous.
Kevin was just getting tired of the whole thing when suddenly, the crappy dance song (probably Lady Gaga, Kevin thought with a scowl), turned off, there was a squeal of feedback, and William Beckett was on the stage, looking nervous, despite his dapper outfit and beautiful hair.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, suave and smooth and a little sheepish. “I regret to inform you that I’ve sadly wronged a beautiful woman and must do my best to make amends, because she has got a wicked left hook and the heart of a fierce little cat, and I’d really love to tap that. Or at least dance with her, hold her hand, and maybe neck a little before delivering her home before her curfew runs out.”
“Jesus,” Demi whispered, pale. Kevin didn’t say anything, stricken with mingled horror, awe, and jealousy.
“So I was going to sing a song,” he said, manfully ignoring the jeering from some, which was nearly drowned out by the hooting of his friends, particularly Iero. “I went through lists of every love song and apology song on my iPod and nothing fit, so after rehearsing a gorgeous rendition of ‘Hey There Delillah’, I’ve decided there is no help for it, and I’ve got to go with a classic.” He took a deep breath, grinned and looked up at the crowd through his hair as he pulled his acoustic guitar strap over one shoulder, and said, “Oh, and I was so wrong, Demi. You’re a billion times prettier than me, especially when you wrinkle your precious little nose and punch my best friend in the face.” Then he launched into an acoustic rendition of ‘Teenaged Dirtbag’, and of course, he sang like an angel.
Demi and Kevin stood still and silent in the shadows for a long moment, listening in shock, and then she spun on her heel and stalked towards the door. “This is ridiculous,” she said, and Kevin grabbed her arm.
“Demi,” he said quietly. “The prettiest guy in school is throwing everything on the line to apologize to you, after you started a brawl with his friends in the cafeteria and then dumped your drink on his head. He’s singing to you and he sounds like an angel. If you don’t give him a chance to make his stupidity up to you, then we can’t be friends anymore. At least talk to him.”
Demi hesitated, biting her lip and looking from Kevin to the stage, and then sighing. “Yeah,” she said quietly, before smiling at him, strained. “You’ll be alright alone?”
He nodded once, grinned at her, and watched her skirt her way through the crowd. She climbed up on the stage, hesitated only once, and then marched purposefully over to him, ignored his hopeful grin, grabbed him by the collar, and kissed him hard, ending the song in a discordant clash of chords. William didn’t seem to mind, and the DJ picked up again.
Kevin smiled a little, ducked his head, and slipped out the side door. It was only when he got to the bike racks that he wondered worriedly how the heck he was meant to get three bikes home on his own.
“Someone run over your dog?”
Kevin jumped, startled, and turned to find Mike leaning against the brick building, smoking. “Sorry?”
“Your dog. Just wondering why you look so dejected and shit.”
Kevin blinked and said, “Oh. I just. Demi and Selena are busy and stuff and probably getting rides home and I don’t know how to get three bikes home? My dog’s fine, though.” He cleared his throat, gathered up his courage, and said, “Are you, like, stalking me? I mean, I know sometimes wild cats and stuff stalk their prey, or even tame cats play with mice before they kill them or whatever, but if you’re intending to beat me up or humiliate me or kill me, could you just get it over with? The anxiety is sort of giving me stomach aches.”
Mike raised an eyebrow, tossed his cigarette, pulled out his phone, sent off a quick text, and then said, “Which one is your girlfriend’s?” Kevin squinted at him and then pointed silently to the bike with the daisy basket on the front and the retro plastic bits that clicked when the tires turned. “Right,” Mike mumbled, rolling his eyes, and Kevin was worried he meant to trash it when he tugged it out of the bike rack. “Bill’s going to get the other one. Come on, which way?” he asked impatiently.
“Uhm. To where?”
“Your house, Jonas.”
Kevin numbly pointed, and Mike got on the bike, scowling a bit as he tested the handlebar height, and then he said, “Race you,” and took off into the dark.
Kevin lost the race only because, for about thirty seconds, he could just stare in shock, mouth hanging open.
It was actually kind of nice to go dashing down the streets in the dark, peddling like crazy, trying to catch up to Mike. Kevin felt the anxiety that seemed to plague him constantly ease a little bit, and as long as he didn’t let Mike lead him anywhere dark and isolated, he was pretty sure he’d survive this. After all, how dangerous could a guy be if he was willing to ride a bike with a daisy-decorated basket on the front?
The race ended in a spectacular fail when Kevin’s front tire skidded on some loose sand on the road and he spun out, fishtailing before slamming to the ground in the mercifully soft grass alongside the road with a startled yelp.
He lay there, wind knocked out of him, stunned, blinking and trying to clear the disorientation that came from the little bit of punch he’d had and the fact that the adrenaline and lack of oxygen was making the stars spin.
He jolted back into full awareness when Mike was there suddenly, dropping Selena’s bike as he leapt off it, and throwing himself to the ground, leaning over Kevin, blocking out the stars, and panting, “Fuck, fuck, you okay?”
Kevin couldn’t help a small giggle and he clamped one hand over his mouth to stop any more from slipping out. “I think I lost the race,” he said. “Don’t kill me, okay?”
Mike scowled and sat back, so Kevin could sit up carefully. “Why do you keep going on about me killing you?” he asked.
“Well,” Kevin said thoughtfully. “You are kind of stalking me, and that’s generally not a good sign, and you do have a switchblade.”
Mike just looked at him, eyes narrow, and Kevin snickered. “How much did you drink?” Mike asked.
“Barely anything.” It was the truth. But something about the cool night air and the tiny bit of alcohol and the light-headedness of the fall and the fact that Mike Carden had just challenged him to a bike race made him giddy. And maybe a little brave.
Kevin staggered to his feet, glanced around, and brightened. He’d crashed alongside an old playground, the kind with dented, metal slides that were too dangerous for the newer playgrounds, with an ancient merry-go-round in a pit of sand nearby. Kevin had loved those as a kid.
He slanted a quick look at Mike and said, “Look, you don’t have to stay, I’m okay, and I live pretty close, I’m sure I can get the bikes home on my own. Thanks, though.” There was no way he was going to spin around on the merry-go-round with Mike Carden watching. That way lay social suicide for sure.
“This is not how I pictured tonight going,” Mike growled, turning away, kicking at a tuft of grass. “You couldn’t be normal, could you, not for one night, you couldn’t just hang out at the dance and wait for someone-me-I mean-”
Kevin had wandered over to the merry-go-round, looking at it with yearning, and he interrupted Mike to say, “Do you ever feel like your life is one of those teen movies from the 90s only you’re playing the supporting role, the friend who doesn’t have their own plot?”
Mike was quiet for a moment, and Kevin looked at him over his shoulder. Mike shrugged. “Get on and I’ll give you a push.” He sounded long suffering and resigned, and Kevin didn’t pause to think about anything, to worry about anything, or to be scared. Maybe Mike wasn’t so scary, maybe Mike was as much a delinquent as Kevin was a loser, and maybe, when they weren’t at school being forced into stupid roles they hadn’t chosen, they could just be themselves, and spin around on a merry-go-round til they got sick.
Kevin whooped and hopped on the merry-go-round and Mike pushed him, so fast that Kevin had to cling to the metal bars, wind whipping his hair, head tipped back and laughing. Mike jumped onto the merry-go-round when he was done pushing, watching Kevin, and Kevin finally, shyly, looked back. Everything blurred around them and finally, as the merry-go-round slowed, Mike jumped off. Kevin followed, staggering dizzily and nearly stumbling, but Mike caught him by the wrists, holding him up.
“Kevin,” he said, Kevin’s wrists pinned to his chest. Kevin looked up at him, eyes wide and startled. “Where’s your pretty girlfriend?” His voice was low, rough.
“Making out with Gabe Saporta,” Kevin confessed in a shaky whisper. “I kind of lied, we don’t have sex at all. She’s my best friend.”
Mike grinned, slow and dirty, and said, “Oh. I wanted to-”
Kevin leaned up on his tiptoes and kissed him, an awkward, desperate, and hard press of lips. It was quick and kind of painful, and done before he could think it through at all and talk himself out of it, just a quick press of lips and then a shaking, terrified laugh that was cut off abruptly when Mike touched his jaw, tipped his head back, and licked at Kevin’s lips. Kevin’s laugh choked off in a tiny, desperate sound and he let Mike lick his way into his mouth, licking at his tongue shyly, melting against him and catching himself on Mike’s shoulders when both of Mike’s palms cradled his face, gently coaxing him to angle just right to deepen the kiss.
Mike’s phone rang in his pocket, and it startled Kevin, who jerked backwards violently, staring with wide eyes as he panted, trying to catch his breath, and shattered bits of common sense slammed together in his mind.
High school was the very, very worst place to be gay, and Kevin wasn’t, or at least, he didn’t want people to know he was. He shook his head wildly and Mike reached for him, saying his name, but Kevin stumbled backwards.
“No,” he mumbled. “I’m not, I’m, I can’t.” Then, before Mike could make sense of that, he spun on his heel and ran as quickly as he could, lifting his bike and jumping onto it, peddling away into the darkness.
He spent the weekend hiding under his blankets, counting down the hours til school, as if they were the last moments of his life. They probably were, there was no way the entire school wouldn’t know what he’d done, and no way they wouldn’t kill him for it.
***
Kevin was lucky that Selena and Demi were so busy gossiping about Demi’s newfound happiness with William and they didn’t notice Kevin’s antisocial bout of depression. Apparently William was throwing a party that Saturday, which Demi and Selena tried to talk him into attending (heck no, Mike would probably be there), but Kevin claimed a headache, not answering the text Selena sent him later. ‘M Carden lookn 4 u,’ it said. ‘knd of hot y/y?’
He just whimpered and pulled his blankets up over his head and didn’t, not even a little bit, touch his lips and imagine he could still taste Mike when he swallowed.
***
Monday morning started off okay, and Kevin thought maybe that whole kissing thing was forgotten, that Mike hadn’t told anyone, that the school hadn’t found out. It was all normal and that was why he relaxed his guard, smiling distractedly at Selena and Demi while they told him about William and Gabe and the party.
Then Mike touched his arm from behind and, to be honest, Kevin had been waiting for the other shoe to drop all day. He barely flinched, just turned, leaned against his locker, looked at Mike, and said, “Yeah?”
Mike smirked crookedly and Selena and Demi had fallen silent, confused. Mike stepped closer, out of the rush of students on their way to lunch, and too close to Kevin, invading his personal space like he had a right to be there.
“Efron’s a dick,” Mike told him, and Kevin didn’t know where this conversation was going.
“I don’t do his homework anymore,” he said awkwardly. “He was kind of angry.”
Mike smiled, like he was pleased, and it did amazing things to his eyes and then he said, “You gonna run again?” and he knocked their hands together, fingers lacing together loosely.
“Kevin,” Selena began, startled, and Kevin shifted uncomfortably but before he could say anything, Frank bounced up to Mike, slammed into his side, smiled sharply, and said, “Are you gonna do it, are you?” Mike had stumbled a bit, letting go of Kevin’s hand.
Siska followed more slowly, rolling his eyes, laughing, and said, “Iero, Jesus, give him a bit of space, you’re such a spaz,” and Frank giggled, making kissy faces at Kevin, and Kevin was flushed, embarrassed, and terrified. Mike had told them, they knew, and they were laughing at him, and his stomach rolled with nausea, cheeks burning.
“Fuck off,” Mike hissed, elbowing Frank sharply, and Kevin didn’t even care, all he knew was that it felt like everyone was staring at him, laughing at him.
He lashed out blindly, shoving Mike, and saying desperately, “Stop it, stop, you can’t, just because I kissed you-”
It was the wrong thing to say, and before he could even finish, he was interrupted, Trace from the football team overhearing and cracking up. “Fucking seriously?” he crowed. “You fucking kissed him? Fuck, Jonas, didn’t know you were a fucking fag!” He said it loudly enough that most of the hallway heard, and the laughing and catcalls increased. It felt like the whole school was laughing, saying things about him that his father would die if he heard, and Kevin panicked.
He saw Mike, looking pissed,. “Kevin,” he said, reaching for him, but Kevin ducked out of reach, pushing passed Frank, who was trying to tackle Trace to the ground, and ran down the hallway, losing Mike, Selena, and Demi in the crowd.
He wanted to die. Instead, he claimed a migraine and spent the afternoon in the infirmary.
***
He avoided Selena and Demi’s calls that night, and even when one of the rang the doorbell. He pretended to be sleeping until his mom sent them away, whispering about his headache.
The next day, he arrived late, mostly to avoid having to speak to anyone, and slipped into French a few minutes after the bell. His teacher scolded him and he mumbled in reply before ducking into his chair, arranging his books, and then glancing up at Selena with a weak, apologetic smile. Her eyes narrowed but she gave him a little smile in return, and then the lesson started, and Kevin focussed all his energy on not looking back at Mike, despite the fact that he could feel him glaring into his back.
Class ended and Kevin scooped up his books, ducking out of the class before anyone could talk to him, and it was probably a stupid move.
“Hey, Jonas!”
He froze, startled, because it was Zac, and Kevin had spent so long being stupidly infatuated with him that he couldn’t help it. He turned slowly to find Zac grinning at him. “Yeah?”
Zac stepped closer, too close, and Kevin swallowed, uncertain. “You know that stupid Halloween dance coming up?” he asked, voice pitched low, intimate.
Kevin’s breathing hitched, and he wasn’t sure if it was terror or not. “Yes,” he whispered, confused, because there was no way that Zac was going to ask him to the dance, no way. His life was not a teen movie.
But then, just as that undeniable bit of hope began curling inside, Zac said, “You wanna go with me?”
“I-you mean it?” he asked, voice cracking, and then he caught sight of Mike, coming out of the classroom with a fierce scowl, and he grew distracted, cheeks flushing.
He was more startled than anything when Zac laughed sharply, shoved his shoulder, and said, “Fuck no, I don’t! Fucking fag.” He walked away with his friends, laughing, and Kevin spun around to stare after them, chest heaving. It was anger more than anything this time, and he remembered Mike asking him, what felt like ages ago, if he ever fought back.
“Zac,” he called, and, startled, Zac glanced back at him. “You’re a dick. And-and you suck at French.”
“Seriously?” Zac said, and his friends were all laughing, and Kevin didn’t even care if it was at him or at Zac. Zac approached him, too close again, menacing this time, and he hissed, “You think I didn’t know? You were so fucking obvious, the way you stared at me, like even if I was as fucked as you I would ever even want someone like you.” He shoved Kevin hard, and Kevin staggered backwards, more hurt and humiliated and angry than he had ever felt.
“Your loss,” Kevin said shakily.
Zac just laughed and walked away, leaving Kevin feeling hollow and stupid, leaning against the lockers. He turned his head, startled to find Mike a few feet away, studying him searchingly for a moment. Kevin didn’t know what to say, had never felt so bruised, vulnerable, and embarrassed before, and he finally ducked his head and looked away.
Mike didn’t say anything either, just cleared his throat roughly and walked away.
That hurt even more than the rest.
***
He confessed everything to Selena and Demi at lunch time, might have cried like a little girl for a while, and felt much better afterwards, though still deeply bruised about Mike walking away from him.
That was before he found out that someone had put Zac Efron in the hospital with a broken jaw. After that, he was mostly just confused.
He went to cheerleading practice after school, and the other cheerleaders didn’t say anything about the rumours circulating around the school about him. Maybe they were scared off by Selena’s whole protective mother bear vibe, but whatever it was, he appreciated it.
After practice, he’d waved goodbye to Demi and Selena, who were going to hang out with Gabe and William, and grabbed his duffle bag and stuff from the bleachers. He was startled to see Frank, Sisky, and Bob Bryar standing around, looking bored and rather menacing, on the path that lead to the parking lot.
“Hey,” Frank said, taking a drag of his cigarette. Sisky nodded, looking solemn, and Bob just grunted. Kevin glanced around sneakily for Mike. He wasn’t there.
“We already put your bike in Bob’s truck,” Sisky said, as they started walking. Kevin was still confused, and then he saw a few members of the football team watching them from near the gym doors, scowling, furious, and terrifying. He had forgotten that maybe the football team wouldn’t take too kindly to Zac being hospitalized (Kevin wondered nervously how that had happened, he’d only heard crazy rumours about it), and that they might blame him.
He was suddenly more grateful than anything that Frank, Sisky, and Bob had happened to be waiting around, for whatever reason.
There was a warmth in the pit of his stomach when Kevin wondered if maybe it hadn’t been coincidence at all, but he steadily refused to think about that.
It was like that for the rest of the week, and the one following it. Some combination of Mike’s friends would show up casually whenever Kevin had to walk between classes or out to his car (which his parents had finally given back to him). They’d make idle chitchat, escort him passed growling clusters of jocks, and then disperse, and Kevin was really grateful for it. He even started pretending that maybe they were friends.
Mike wasn’t around at all, though, and he was too scared to ask why.
***
“So, here’s the thing,” Frank said. It was lunch time, unseasonably warm for the end of October, and Kevin, Demi, and Selena somehow found themselves sprawled all over the bleachers with the geeky art kids (minus Mike). Kevin didn’t mind, because he found that he liked them all a lot more than he thought he might, even Gerard Way, who was still really weird.
“What thing?” Kevin asked. He was lying on his back, head pillowed on Frank’s bony thigh, watching the smoke from Frank’s cigarette swirl above him.
“Do you honestly think you’re the only one?” Frank waved his cigarette around before Kevin could ask, and said, “The only guy around here who likes making out with other guys or whatever.”
“Uhm. Sort of,” Kevin confessed, frowning a little. “I’m not?”
“You really should have come to William’s party,” Frank said with a smirk. He took a drag and then jerked his chin at Gerard, who was squinting in the sunlight, sketching. “I’m going to marry him,” he declared. “When he’s not all busy with his art and shit, we make out. And stuff.” He grinned. “Seriously, he’s so fucking hot. And you know Mikey, obviously.” Mikey was currently on the grass at the bottom of the bleachers, trying to teach Selena how to hold a croquet stick. “He and Bob have been going out since preschool, practically, when someone called Mikey four eyes and Bob bloodied their nose.” He paused for a moment and Kevin stared at Bob, who was watching the croquet lesson and smirking. “William’s straight, unfortunately, and Gabe too, sort of.” He shrugged. “Sisky, who the fuck can tell with Sisky...” He trailed off.
“And. And Mike?”
Frank looked down at him and rolled his eyes. “Seriously? You think we like sunlight and shit? We hang out in the art room, for fuck’s sake. Then one day, Carden comes in all daydreamy and distracted and Sisky manages to force this fucking confession out of him, that he’d rescued this... this pretty kid with curly hair and adorable freckles and-he was all-seriously, he was fucking stupid about it, it was so fucking cute.” He grinned. “So of course we all came out to see, and he turned so red watching you practice, it was so funny... You’re very bendy, and Carden seems to like that in a guy.”
Kevin just stared at him, mouth hanging open a little, and Frank shrugged. “He doesn’t talk much, I guess, and he sort of sucks at the whole... emotions thing. But he’s trying, man.”
Swallowing hard, Kevin said, “He hasn’t been at school.”
“Well, no shit,” Frank said dryly. “Suspended pending assault charges, and grounded for life.”
“Because of Zac.”
Frank nodded, face going tight, and said, “He fucking deserved it, he’s a dick.”
“Did it ever occur to you or Bob or Mike that-that maybe bloodying the noses of the bullies isn’t going to make it stop, or fix it?”
“Worked for Bob,” Frank said blankly.
“This isn’t preschool!” Kevin cried. “I mean, I appreciate it, really, I do, but all it got him was suspended pending legal charges.”
“Hmm,” Frank said, like he was seriously considering Kevin’s new and unique point of view. “I see. Hypothetically, then, which approach would you suggest to a boy who’d like very much to get into your fashionably tight pants?”
Kevin flushed but refused to back down. “He could try talking to me,” he said instead, quietly. “Or not beating up the bullies so he could be here, instead, with me, instead of suspended. High school isn’t about fighting back, it’s about surviving, and it would be so much easier to survive it with him here.”
Frank hummed and nodded thoughtfully.
****
Kevin didn’t plan on going to the Halloween dance. Though the school’s reaction to his homosexuality wasn’t as bad as it could have been, given that the scariest kids in school had become some sort of honour guard, Kevin didn’t want to push his luck. Unfortunately, Frank and Sisky had other ideas, asking him pointedly, “You are going to the Halloween dance, right?”
Kevin had started shaking his head but Demi just grinned, sharp, and hooked her arm through his. Selena, at least, had the grace to look apologetic, but she hooked her arm through his other one. “Of course he is,” Demi announced. “I’m on the party planning committee and I need someone to run the lighting booth during the big King and Queen of the Night announcement. Besides, we’ve got a fantastic costume in mind, and there needs to be three of us.”
“There does?” Kevin asked.
Selena patted his shoulder. “There does,” she said. “But it won’t be so bad.”
Frank was grinning, predatory and sharp, and he said, “No, it’s gonna be perfect. Yo, Gee! Stop drawing for one fucking second and pay attention to me.” He wandered away, playfully tugging Gerard’s notebook away, before sliding onto his lap and proceeding to enthusiastically make out with him. Gerard didn’t seem to mind, and Kevin ducked his head, stared at the ground, and pretended he wasn’t jealous.
“Don’t worry,” Selena told him, squeezing his shoulder. “You’re going to look awesome.”
*
He did look awesome. It was hard not to look awesome when you were dressed as one of the pussycats from Josie and the Pussycats, though. Demi looked hot, all punk rock and leopard print, Selena looked amazing, pure white with her hair a dark, wild mess around her painted face, and Kevin... well, he looked like a proper rockstar cat in pleather pants that were so tight they squeaked when he walked, and hung low on his hips, a strip of pale skin between them and his shirt, tall boots with silver buckles that tied up the back with a sexy, almost gothic ribbon, a black mesh shirt that only showed hints of his skin, and a tight jacket that laced up the back with a ribbon that matched the boots, corset style, with a high ruffled neckline that circled his throat like a delicate, pretty collar. His hair was a mess, with black kitten ears on a headband holding it out of his face, and Selena had carefully lined his eyes in thick, black liner before drawing a cat nose and whiskers on his cheeks.
Kevin couldn’t help but strut a little, hips rolling, as he paced around backstage where no one could see him, because if the school didn’t know he was gay yet, one look at his hot, flamboyant pussycat costume, and they would for sure, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to commit to that. Besides, Demi really did need him to run the lights, and it was nearly time for the announcement of King and Queen.
“Hey.”
Kevin was so startled that he actually yelped, spinning around. Mike stood there, mostly in shadow, hands shoved into the pockets of his tux, hair slicked back. He smiled sheepishly, and Kevin just stared for a moment before saying numbly, “You’re James Bond. You look, uhm. You look good.” His cheeks flushed.
Mike came closer, studying him a moment, and then said quietly, “You look fucking amazing.”
He was close enough now that Kevin could feel him breathing, and he went very still and valiantly didn’t run away. “I’m sorry,” Mike said.
It was so unexpected that it took Kevin a moment to shift from mentally begging Mike to kiss him and when he finally did, he said, “What?”
“I’m sorry. I know you really liked Efron.” There was something off about Mike, and Kevin couldn’t figure it out. “And he was a dick to you, and you might be mad over what I did, but he fucking deserved it.”
Kevin shook his head once to clear it. “Mike,” he said, reaching out, touching his hand. “That isn’t-I don’t-”
Mike reached up and carefully, gently, ran his thumb along Kevin’s cheek. “Your whisker is smudged,” he said with a small smile, and Kevin finally placed what was different about him. He looked sad.
“Mike,” Kevin said again, desperately. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”
“You didn’t do anything,” Mike told him.
“Then why are you being strange? Why won’t-why won’t you just kiss me?” he whispered.
Mike studied him for a moment and then said carefully, “I’m not a consolation prize, Kevin.” He turned and walked carefully away, and Kevin stared after him, breaking.
**
The lighting booth was actually just a panel built into the wall beside the curtain on stage, hidden in the shadows, and Kevin hid there after Mike walked away from him. His hands were shaking and he couldn’t think, couldn’t focus at all. He was startled when Demi appeared beside him.
“Almost ready-Kevin? Are you okay?” she asked, squinting at him in the darkness.
He looked at her and opened his mouth to tell her he was fine, and instead, he just shook his head a little and let out a trembling breath. “I think I screwed up,” Kevin told her, and she touched his shoulder.
“What happened? I’m sure it’s fixable.”
He closed his eyes and said, “I just-Demi, you’re never scared, of anything, ever, are you? You don’t get it, what it’s like to be scared all the time, scared that you’ll screw up and everyone will laugh at you, but it’s so stupid, because who cares what they think? They’re already laughing and now it’s too late.”
“Kev. Kevin, hey. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. “What happened?”
“I was so scared of admitting that I liked guys but everyone found out anyway and the only person I convinced was Mike and now he thinks I don’t like him at all.”
“Oh, Kevin,” she said softly, cupping his cheek. “Listen to me, we can fix this, okay? Just-we can fix it, I’ll get William to talk to him...”
He shook his head wildly. “We can’t, we just-he made his decision and he walked away from me and-”
She tugged at his hair gently. “How many times did you run away from him?” He just ducked his head, taking a deep breath, and she sighed. “Bring up the houselights, Kevin,” she said. “We’ll fix it afterwards.”
“Yeah,” he said, but he was pretty sure this wasn’t fixable, and if it was, he’d have to fix it himself.
He brought up the houselights and the music cut out. Demi ducked out of the curtain to watch the announcement, made by Miley, who was head of the party planning committee, and Kevin turned them out, leaning his head against the wall and focussing on breathing.
He smiled a tiny bit without any amusement when Zac was named King of the Night, because as if there had ever been a doubt. Zac’s speech was just as irritatingly smug as Kevin had expected to be, and he closed his eyes again as he took deep, calming breaths.
And then he was named Queen of the Night, and Kevin’s head jerked up as he stared at the crack between the curtains, where a sliver of light spilled through the darkness. He didn’t understand, not Miley’s confused announcement, not the laughter of the audience, not the muffled giggle as someone behind him shoved him roughly.
He stumbled out onto the stage, his arms flailing awkwardly, nearly falling to his knees, and then froze, barely able to see the laughing crowd through the lights, but he could hear them. Miley smiled a little awkwardly and dropped the crown on his head, and Zac was there, hysterical, laughing as he stumbled off stage.
Kevin wanted to be sick. He wanted to die. His cheeks were burning, his throat felt tight, and he thought for one terrifying, dizzying moment, that he was going to pass out.
He straightened up slowly, his breath sounding loudly in his ears, and he wanted to run, but Kevin was so fucking sick of running. He heard someone screaming-Selena, probably, or Demi, furious... maybe even Frank, probably kicking someone’s ass in the audience. Kevin shuffled closer to the mic, hesitating only a moment before swallowing hard. Maybe the difference between starring in a teen movie and being the plotless sidekick was in having the courage to make a move, the courage to go after what you want.
He was so sick of running.
He stepped up to the mic, and barely anybody noticed. People were still laughing at him and he didn’t care, or tried not to care. His voice was barely audible, trembling badly, and he had to clear his throat before he could speak at all.
“Mike,” he said, and then, before he could say anything more, Mike was there, taking him by the wrist.
“Fuck this,” Mike said, voice tight, furious. “Fuck them. You don’t need to do this, c’mon.” He tugged him towards the edge of the stage, standing between Kevin and the audience like a shield. Kevin smiled at him shakily and then shook his head, closed his eyes, and mumbled, “It’s a gesture, Mike, shut up. A grand freaking gesture.”
Then he took a deep breath and said into the mic, “I stopped noticing him at all the first time you spoke to me. He’s not worth it, none of them are worth it, and I’m so sorry.”
Then, still shaking badly, he turned to Mike and straightened his crown. He smiled again, small and rueful, and said softly, away from the mic, “I really screwed up.”
Mike looked hesitant for a moment, chewing his bottom lip, some of his hair having slipped from its James Bond style, falling to cover his eyes and brush his cheeks. Kevin wasn’t used to him looking hesitant.
“I really like you,” Mike said quietly. “I’ve liked you for ages.”
“Okay,” Kevin told him, nodding a little, stepping closer. “That’s-that’s good, I-” He gave up with a small, frustrated growl, and leaned up on his tiptoes, wrapped his arms around Mike’s shoulders, and kissed him.
Mike kissed him back, tipping his head and biting his lip but keeping the kiss light, playful. His hands held Kevin’s hips. He mumbled against his mouth, “They might say shit about you.”
“Fuck them,” Kevin said, kissing him again. Mike grinned against his lips, knocked the crown off his head, and tugged him close, licking his way into Kevin’s mouth. Around them, the sound of laughter had dropped off, replaced by grunts and curses as Demi, Selena, Frank, Sisky, the Way Brothers, and everyone else who mattered tackled the rest of the audience to the ground.
The End
Download it!
1. Marchin' In - Lo-Fi-Fnk
2. Blister In The Sun - Still Standing
3. Gotta Get A Problem - Mates of State
4. Meltdown - Gravy
5. Get Up And Go - Broadcast 2000
6. Me Me Me - Lars And The Hands Of Light
7. I Don't Know Why I Love You - The House of Love
8. Asking Why - Memorial Beach
9. Nervous - We Were Pirates
10. Apples And Pairs - Slow Club
11. Home - Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros
12. Swim - Surfer Blood
13. Josie And The Pussycats - Juliana Hatfield & Tanya Donelly
Bonus: Josie & The Pussycats - TV Theme (Patrice Holloway)
AUTHOR: starflowers
Part One
Kevin had absolutely no intention of going to homecoming, obviously, which meant that Selena showed up at his doorstep with a dress crammed into her backpack and a pair of sensible heels, and marched him up to his room, picked out an outfit, and demanded he escort her.
Since the whole school thought they were dating, it really was the least they could do. And since his car privileges were still revoked, that meant hopping on his bike and riding down the street to Demi’s.
She was waiting on her front stepped, dressed like a princess, her bike waiting on the lawn, and she whooped when they saw them and hopped on, hurrying to catch up as they raced down the street. She had to tuck her dress up around her waist and so did Selena and Kevin didn’t even get distracted by their thighs as they pumped away. He was so gay it hurt sometimes.
“Got you this,” Demi said, breathless, as they shoved their bikes in the bike rack at school. She dug around in her purse and pulled out two wrist corsages, which matched the one she was wearing as well, and Selena giggled.
“Awesome,” she said. “Don’t even bitch, Kevin, you’re wearing it.”
He sighed, closed his mouth without a word, and let Demi fasten it to his wrist. He supposed it was kind of cool, and he was pretty lucky, having two dates, even if he hadn’t ever wanted to come at all.
The gym was vaguely decorated with streamers, there were tons of laser lights, and an overactive smoke machine. The punch was heavily spiked, the cookies were all gone by the time they slipped in, and the chaperone teachers were nowhere to be seen. It was all a pretty traditional thing for his school.
At first it was cool enough. The three of them hung out by the wall, judging other people’s dance moves, talking, giggling, and sipping the punch. Kevin didn’t drink much, generally, but the punch was really strong, and it went straight to his head, until he was giddy and a little tipsy.
Then Gabe Saporta, Selena’s creepy older (much older) boyfriend managed to sneak in and they disappeared, giggling together, and Kevin and Demi just shook their heads. They didn’t disapprove, though, because it was sort of an unspoken understanding that they were both a little jealous.
Kevin was just getting tired of the whole thing when suddenly, the crappy dance song (probably Lady Gaga, Kevin thought with a scowl), turned off, there was a squeal of feedback, and William Beckett was on the stage, looking nervous, despite his dapper outfit and beautiful hair.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, suave and smooth and a little sheepish. “I regret to inform you that I’ve sadly wronged a beautiful woman and must do my best to make amends, because she has got a wicked left hook and the heart of a fierce little cat, and I’d really love to tap that. Or at least dance with her, hold her hand, and maybe neck a little before delivering her home before her curfew runs out.”
“Jesus,” Demi whispered, pale. Kevin didn’t say anything, stricken with mingled horror, awe, and jealousy.
“So I was going to sing a song,” he said, manfully ignoring the jeering from some, which was nearly drowned out by the hooting of his friends, particularly Iero. “I went through lists of every love song and apology song on my iPod and nothing fit, so after rehearsing a gorgeous rendition of ‘Hey There Delillah’, I’ve decided there is no help for it, and I’ve got to go with a classic.” He took a deep breath, grinned and looked up at the crowd through his hair as he pulled his acoustic guitar strap over one shoulder, and said, “Oh, and I was so wrong, Demi. You’re a billion times prettier than me, especially when you wrinkle your precious little nose and punch my best friend in the face.” Then he launched into an acoustic rendition of ‘Teenaged Dirtbag’, and of course, he sang like an angel.
Demi and Kevin stood still and silent in the shadows for a long moment, listening in shock, and then she spun on her heel and stalked towards the door. “This is ridiculous,” she said, and Kevin grabbed her arm.
“Demi,” he said quietly. “The prettiest guy in school is throwing everything on the line to apologize to you, after you started a brawl with his friends in the cafeteria and then dumped your drink on his head. He’s singing to you and he sounds like an angel. If you don’t give him a chance to make his stupidity up to you, then we can’t be friends anymore. At least talk to him.”
Demi hesitated, biting her lip and looking from Kevin to the stage, and then sighing. “Yeah,” she said quietly, before smiling at him, strained. “You’ll be alright alone?”
He nodded once, grinned at her, and watched her skirt her way through the crowd. She climbed up on the stage, hesitated only once, and then marched purposefully over to him, ignored his hopeful grin, grabbed him by the collar, and kissed him hard, ending the song in a discordant clash of chords. William didn’t seem to mind, and the DJ picked up again.
Kevin smiled a little, ducked his head, and slipped out the side door. It was only when he got to the bike racks that he wondered worriedly how the heck he was meant to get three bikes home on his own.
“Someone run over your dog?”
Kevin jumped, startled, and turned to find Mike leaning against the brick building, smoking. “Sorry?”
“Your dog. Just wondering why you look so dejected and shit.”
Kevin blinked and said, “Oh. I just. Demi and Selena are busy and stuff and probably getting rides home and I don’t know how to get three bikes home? My dog’s fine, though.” He cleared his throat, gathered up his courage, and said, “Are you, like, stalking me? I mean, I know sometimes wild cats and stuff stalk their prey, or even tame cats play with mice before they kill them or whatever, but if you’re intending to beat me up or humiliate me or kill me, could you just get it over with? The anxiety is sort of giving me stomach aches.”
Mike raised an eyebrow, tossed his cigarette, pulled out his phone, sent off a quick text, and then said, “Which one is your girlfriend’s?” Kevin squinted at him and then pointed silently to the bike with the daisy basket on the front and the retro plastic bits that clicked when the tires turned. “Right,” Mike mumbled, rolling his eyes, and Kevin was worried he meant to trash it when he tugged it out of the bike rack. “Bill’s going to get the other one. Come on, which way?” he asked impatiently.
“Uhm. To where?”
“Your house, Jonas.”
Kevin numbly pointed, and Mike got on the bike, scowling a bit as he tested the handlebar height, and then he said, “Race you,” and took off into the dark.
Kevin lost the race only because, for about thirty seconds, he could just stare in shock, mouth hanging open.
It was actually kind of nice to go dashing down the streets in the dark, peddling like crazy, trying to catch up to Mike. Kevin felt the anxiety that seemed to plague him constantly ease a little bit, and as long as he didn’t let Mike lead him anywhere dark and isolated, he was pretty sure he’d survive this. After all, how dangerous could a guy be if he was willing to ride a bike with a daisy-decorated basket on the front?
The race ended in a spectacular fail when Kevin’s front tire skidded on some loose sand on the road and he spun out, fishtailing before slamming to the ground in the mercifully soft grass alongside the road with a startled yelp.
He lay there, wind knocked out of him, stunned, blinking and trying to clear the disorientation that came from the little bit of punch he’d had and the fact that the adrenaline and lack of oxygen was making the stars spin.
He jolted back into full awareness when Mike was there suddenly, dropping Selena’s bike as he leapt off it, and throwing himself to the ground, leaning over Kevin, blocking out the stars, and panting, “Fuck, fuck, you okay?”
Kevin couldn’t help a small giggle and he clamped one hand over his mouth to stop any more from slipping out. “I think I lost the race,” he said. “Don’t kill me, okay?”
Mike scowled and sat back, so Kevin could sit up carefully. “Why do you keep going on about me killing you?” he asked.
“Well,” Kevin said thoughtfully. “You are kind of stalking me, and that’s generally not a good sign, and you do have a switchblade.”
Mike just looked at him, eyes narrow, and Kevin snickered. “How much did you drink?” Mike asked.
“Barely anything.” It was the truth. But something about the cool night air and the tiny bit of alcohol and the light-headedness of the fall and the fact that Mike Carden had just challenged him to a bike race made him giddy. And maybe a little brave.
Kevin staggered to his feet, glanced around, and brightened. He’d crashed alongside an old playground, the kind with dented, metal slides that were too dangerous for the newer playgrounds, with an ancient merry-go-round in a pit of sand nearby. Kevin had loved those as a kid.
He slanted a quick look at Mike and said, “Look, you don’t have to stay, I’m okay, and I live pretty close, I’m sure I can get the bikes home on my own. Thanks, though.” There was no way he was going to spin around on the merry-go-round with Mike Carden watching. That way lay social suicide for sure.
“This is not how I pictured tonight going,” Mike growled, turning away, kicking at a tuft of grass. “You couldn’t be normal, could you, not for one night, you couldn’t just hang out at the dance and wait for someone-me-I mean-”
Kevin had wandered over to the merry-go-round, looking at it with yearning, and he interrupted Mike to say, “Do you ever feel like your life is one of those teen movies from the 90s only you’re playing the supporting role, the friend who doesn’t have their own plot?”
Mike was quiet for a moment, and Kevin looked at him over his shoulder. Mike shrugged. “Get on and I’ll give you a push.” He sounded long suffering and resigned, and Kevin didn’t pause to think about anything, to worry about anything, or to be scared. Maybe Mike wasn’t so scary, maybe Mike was as much a delinquent as Kevin was a loser, and maybe, when they weren’t at school being forced into stupid roles they hadn’t chosen, they could just be themselves, and spin around on a merry-go-round til they got sick.
Kevin whooped and hopped on the merry-go-round and Mike pushed him, so fast that Kevin had to cling to the metal bars, wind whipping his hair, head tipped back and laughing. Mike jumped onto the merry-go-round when he was done pushing, watching Kevin, and Kevin finally, shyly, looked back. Everything blurred around them and finally, as the merry-go-round slowed, Mike jumped off. Kevin followed, staggering dizzily and nearly stumbling, but Mike caught him by the wrists, holding him up.
“Kevin,” he said, Kevin’s wrists pinned to his chest. Kevin looked up at him, eyes wide and startled. “Where’s your pretty girlfriend?” His voice was low, rough.
“Making out with Gabe Saporta,” Kevin confessed in a shaky whisper. “I kind of lied, we don’t have sex at all. She’s my best friend.”
Mike grinned, slow and dirty, and said, “Oh. I wanted to-”
Kevin leaned up on his tiptoes and kissed him, an awkward, desperate, and hard press of lips. It was quick and kind of painful, and done before he could think it through at all and talk himself out of it, just a quick press of lips and then a shaking, terrified laugh that was cut off abruptly when Mike touched his jaw, tipped his head back, and licked at Kevin’s lips. Kevin’s laugh choked off in a tiny, desperate sound and he let Mike lick his way into his mouth, licking at his tongue shyly, melting against him and catching himself on Mike’s shoulders when both of Mike’s palms cradled his face, gently coaxing him to angle just right to deepen the kiss.
Mike’s phone rang in his pocket, and it startled Kevin, who jerked backwards violently, staring with wide eyes as he panted, trying to catch his breath, and shattered bits of common sense slammed together in his mind.
High school was the very, very worst place to be gay, and Kevin wasn’t, or at least, he didn’t want people to know he was. He shook his head wildly and Mike reached for him, saying his name, but Kevin stumbled backwards.
“No,” he mumbled. “I’m not, I’m, I can’t.” Then, before Mike could make sense of that, he spun on his heel and ran as quickly as he could, lifting his bike and jumping onto it, peddling away into the darkness.
He spent the weekend hiding under his blankets, counting down the hours til school, as if they were the last moments of his life. They probably were, there was no way the entire school wouldn’t know what he’d done, and no way they wouldn’t kill him for it.
***
Kevin was lucky that Selena and Demi were so busy gossiping about Demi’s newfound happiness with William and they didn’t notice Kevin’s antisocial bout of depression. Apparently William was throwing a party that Saturday, which Demi and Selena tried to talk him into attending (heck no, Mike would probably be there), but Kevin claimed a headache, not answering the text Selena sent him later. ‘M Carden lookn 4 u,’ it said. ‘knd of hot y/y?’
He just whimpered and pulled his blankets up over his head and didn’t, not even a little bit, touch his lips and imagine he could still taste Mike when he swallowed.
***
Monday morning started off okay, and Kevin thought maybe that whole kissing thing was forgotten, that Mike hadn’t told anyone, that the school hadn’t found out. It was all normal and that was why he relaxed his guard, smiling distractedly at Selena and Demi while they told him about William and Gabe and the party.
Then Mike touched his arm from behind and, to be honest, Kevin had been waiting for the other shoe to drop all day. He barely flinched, just turned, leaned against his locker, looked at Mike, and said, “Yeah?”
Mike smirked crookedly and Selena and Demi had fallen silent, confused. Mike stepped closer, out of the rush of students on their way to lunch, and too close to Kevin, invading his personal space like he had a right to be there.
“Efron’s a dick,” Mike told him, and Kevin didn’t know where this conversation was going.
“I don’t do his homework anymore,” he said awkwardly. “He was kind of angry.”
Mike smiled, like he was pleased, and it did amazing things to his eyes and then he said, “You gonna run again?” and he knocked their hands together, fingers lacing together loosely.
“Kevin,” Selena began, startled, and Kevin shifted uncomfortably but before he could say anything, Frank bounced up to Mike, slammed into his side, smiled sharply, and said, “Are you gonna do it, are you?” Mike had stumbled a bit, letting go of Kevin’s hand.
Siska followed more slowly, rolling his eyes, laughing, and said, “Iero, Jesus, give him a bit of space, you’re such a spaz,” and Frank giggled, making kissy faces at Kevin, and Kevin was flushed, embarrassed, and terrified. Mike had told them, they knew, and they were laughing at him, and his stomach rolled with nausea, cheeks burning.
“Fuck off,” Mike hissed, elbowing Frank sharply, and Kevin didn’t even care, all he knew was that it felt like everyone was staring at him, laughing at him.
He lashed out blindly, shoving Mike, and saying desperately, “Stop it, stop, you can’t, just because I kissed you-”
It was the wrong thing to say, and before he could even finish, he was interrupted, Trace from the football team overhearing and cracking up. “Fucking seriously?” he crowed. “You fucking kissed him? Fuck, Jonas, didn’t know you were a fucking fag!” He said it loudly enough that most of the hallway heard, and the laughing and catcalls increased. It felt like the whole school was laughing, saying things about him that his father would die if he heard, and Kevin panicked.
He saw Mike, looking pissed,. “Kevin,” he said, reaching for him, but Kevin ducked out of reach, pushing passed Frank, who was trying to tackle Trace to the ground, and ran down the hallway, losing Mike, Selena, and Demi in the crowd.
He wanted to die. Instead, he claimed a migraine and spent the afternoon in the infirmary.
***
He avoided Selena and Demi’s calls that night, and even when one of the rang the doorbell. He pretended to be sleeping until his mom sent them away, whispering about his headache.
The next day, he arrived late, mostly to avoid having to speak to anyone, and slipped into French a few minutes after the bell. His teacher scolded him and he mumbled in reply before ducking into his chair, arranging his books, and then glancing up at Selena with a weak, apologetic smile. Her eyes narrowed but she gave him a little smile in return, and then the lesson started, and Kevin focussed all his energy on not looking back at Mike, despite the fact that he could feel him glaring into his back.
Class ended and Kevin scooped up his books, ducking out of the class before anyone could talk to him, and it was probably a stupid move.
“Hey, Jonas!”
He froze, startled, because it was Zac, and Kevin had spent so long being stupidly infatuated with him that he couldn’t help it. He turned slowly to find Zac grinning at him. “Yeah?”
Zac stepped closer, too close, and Kevin swallowed, uncertain. “You know that stupid Halloween dance coming up?” he asked, voice pitched low, intimate.
Kevin’s breathing hitched, and he wasn’t sure if it was terror or not. “Yes,” he whispered, confused, because there was no way that Zac was going to ask him to the dance, no way. His life was not a teen movie.
But then, just as that undeniable bit of hope began curling inside, Zac said, “You wanna go with me?”
“I-you mean it?” he asked, voice cracking, and then he caught sight of Mike, coming out of the classroom with a fierce scowl, and he grew distracted, cheeks flushing.
He was more startled than anything when Zac laughed sharply, shoved his shoulder, and said, “Fuck no, I don’t! Fucking fag.” He walked away with his friends, laughing, and Kevin spun around to stare after them, chest heaving. It was anger more than anything this time, and he remembered Mike asking him, what felt like ages ago, if he ever fought back.
“Zac,” he called, and, startled, Zac glanced back at him. “You’re a dick. And-and you suck at French.”
“Seriously?” Zac said, and his friends were all laughing, and Kevin didn’t even care if it was at him or at Zac. Zac approached him, too close again, menacing this time, and he hissed, “You think I didn’t know? You were so fucking obvious, the way you stared at me, like even if I was as fucked as you I would ever even want someone like you.” He shoved Kevin hard, and Kevin staggered backwards, more hurt and humiliated and angry than he had ever felt.
“Your loss,” Kevin said shakily.
Zac just laughed and walked away, leaving Kevin feeling hollow and stupid, leaning against the lockers. He turned his head, startled to find Mike a few feet away, studying him searchingly for a moment. Kevin didn’t know what to say, had never felt so bruised, vulnerable, and embarrassed before, and he finally ducked his head and looked away.
Mike didn’t say anything either, just cleared his throat roughly and walked away.
That hurt even more than the rest.
***
He confessed everything to Selena and Demi at lunch time, might have cried like a little girl for a while, and felt much better afterwards, though still deeply bruised about Mike walking away from him.
That was before he found out that someone had put Zac Efron in the hospital with a broken jaw. After that, he was mostly just confused.
He went to cheerleading practice after school, and the other cheerleaders didn’t say anything about the rumours circulating around the school about him. Maybe they were scared off by Selena’s whole protective mother bear vibe, but whatever it was, he appreciated it.
After practice, he’d waved goodbye to Demi and Selena, who were going to hang out with Gabe and William, and grabbed his duffle bag and stuff from the bleachers. He was startled to see Frank, Sisky, and Bob Bryar standing around, looking bored and rather menacing, on the path that lead to the parking lot.
“Hey,” Frank said, taking a drag of his cigarette. Sisky nodded, looking solemn, and Bob just grunted. Kevin glanced around sneakily for Mike. He wasn’t there.
“We already put your bike in Bob’s truck,” Sisky said, as they started walking. Kevin was still confused, and then he saw a few members of the football team watching them from near the gym doors, scowling, furious, and terrifying. He had forgotten that maybe the football team wouldn’t take too kindly to Zac being hospitalized (Kevin wondered nervously how that had happened, he’d only heard crazy rumours about it), and that they might blame him.
He was suddenly more grateful than anything that Frank, Sisky, and Bob had happened to be waiting around, for whatever reason.
There was a warmth in the pit of his stomach when Kevin wondered if maybe it hadn’t been coincidence at all, but he steadily refused to think about that.
It was like that for the rest of the week, and the one following it. Some combination of Mike’s friends would show up casually whenever Kevin had to walk between classes or out to his car (which his parents had finally given back to him). They’d make idle chitchat, escort him passed growling clusters of jocks, and then disperse, and Kevin was really grateful for it. He even started pretending that maybe they were friends.
Mike wasn’t around at all, though, and he was too scared to ask why.
***
“So, here’s the thing,” Frank said. It was lunch time, unseasonably warm for the end of October, and Kevin, Demi, and Selena somehow found themselves sprawled all over the bleachers with the geeky art kids (minus Mike). Kevin didn’t mind, because he found that he liked them all a lot more than he thought he might, even Gerard Way, who was still really weird.
“What thing?” Kevin asked. He was lying on his back, head pillowed on Frank’s bony thigh, watching the smoke from Frank’s cigarette swirl above him.
“Do you honestly think you’re the only one?” Frank waved his cigarette around before Kevin could ask, and said, “The only guy around here who likes making out with other guys or whatever.”
“Uhm. Sort of,” Kevin confessed, frowning a little. “I’m not?”
“You really should have come to William’s party,” Frank said with a smirk. He took a drag and then jerked his chin at Gerard, who was squinting in the sunlight, sketching. “I’m going to marry him,” he declared. “When he’s not all busy with his art and shit, we make out. And stuff.” He grinned. “Seriously, he’s so fucking hot. And you know Mikey, obviously.” Mikey was currently on the grass at the bottom of the bleachers, trying to teach Selena how to hold a croquet stick. “He and Bob have been going out since preschool, practically, when someone called Mikey four eyes and Bob bloodied their nose.” He paused for a moment and Kevin stared at Bob, who was watching the croquet lesson and smirking. “William’s straight, unfortunately, and Gabe too, sort of.” He shrugged. “Sisky, who the fuck can tell with Sisky...” He trailed off.
“And. And Mike?”
Frank looked down at him and rolled his eyes. “Seriously? You think we like sunlight and shit? We hang out in the art room, for fuck’s sake. Then one day, Carden comes in all daydreamy and distracted and Sisky manages to force this fucking confession out of him, that he’d rescued this... this pretty kid with curly hair and adorable freckles and-he was all-seriously, he was fucking stupid about it, it was so fucking cute.” He grinned. “So of course we all came out to see, and he turned so red watching you practice, it was so funny... You’re very bendy, and Carden seems to like that in a guy.”
Kevin just stared at him, mouth hanging open a little, and Frank shrugged. “He doesn’t talk much, I guess, and he sort of sucks at the whole... emotions thing. But he’s trying, man.”
Swallowing hard, Kevin said, “He hasn’t been at school.”
“Well, no shit,” Frank said dryly. “Suspended pending assault charges, and grounded for life.”
“Because of Zac.”
Frank nodded, face going tight, and said, “He fucking deserved it, he’s a dick.”
“Did it ever occur to you or Bob or Mike that-that maybe bloodying the noses of the bullies isn’t going to make it stop, or fix it?”
“Worked for Bob,” Frank said blankly.
“This isn’t preschool!” Kevin cried. “I mean, I appreciate it, really, I do, but all it got him was suspended pending legal charges.”
“Hmm,” Frank said, like he was seriously considering Kevin’s new and unique point of view. “I see. Hypothetically, then, which approach would you suggest to a boy who’d like very much to get into your fashionably tight pants?”
Kevin flushed but refused to back down. “He could try talking to me,” he said instead, quietly. “Or not beating up the bullies so he could be here, instead, with me, instead of suspended. High school isn’t about fighting back, it’s about surviving, and it would be so much easier to survive it with him here.”
Frank hummed and nodded thoughtfully.
****
Kevin didn’t plan on going to the Halloween dance. Though the school’s reaction to his homosexuality wasn’t as bad as it could have been, given that the scariest kids in school had become some sort of honour guard, Kevin didn’t want to push his luck. Unfortunately, Frank and Sisky had other ideas, asking him pointedly, “You are going to the Halloween dance, right?”
Kevin had started shaking his head but Demi just grinned, sharp, and hooked her arm through his. Selena, at least, had the grace to look apologetic, but she hooked her arm through his other one. “Of course he is,” Demi announced. “I’m on the party planning committee and I need someone to run the lighting booth during the big King and Queen of the Night announcement. Besides, we’ve got a fantastic costume in mind, and there needs to be three of us.”
“There does?” Kevin asked.
Selena patted his shoulder. “There does,” she said. “But it won’t be so bad.”
Frank was grinning, predatory and sharp, and he said, “No, it’s gonna be perfect. Yo, Gee! Stop drawing for one fucking second and pay attention to me.” He wandered away, playfully tugging Gerard’s notebook away, before sliding onto his lap and proceeding to enthusiastically make out with him. Gerard didn’t seem to mind, and Kevin ducked his head, stared at the ground, and pretended he wasn’t jealous.
“Don’t worry,” Selena told him, squeezing his shoulder. “You’re going to look awesome.”
*
He did look awesome. It was hard not to look awesome when you were dressed as one of the pussycats from Josie and the Pussycats, though. Demi looked hot, all punk rock and leopard print, Selena looked amazing, pure white with her hair a dark, wild mess around her painted face, and Kevin... well, he looked like a proper rockstar cat in pleather pants that were so tight they squeaked when he walked, and hung low on his hips, a strip of pale skin between them and his shirt, tall boots with silver buckles that tied up the back with a sexy, almost gothic ribbon, a black mesh shirt that only showed hints of his skin, and a tight jacket that laced up the back with a ribbon that matched the boots, corset style, with a high ruffled neckline that circled his throat like a delicate, pretty collar. His hair was a mess, with black kitten ears on a headband holding it out of his face, and Selena had carefully lined his eyes in thick, black liner before drawing a cat nose and whiskers on his cheeks.
Kevin couldn’t help but strut a little, hips rolling, as he paced around backstage where no one could see him, because if the school didn’t know he was gay yet, one look at his hot, flamboyant pussycat costume, and they would for sure, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to commit to that. Besides, Demi really did need him to run the lights, and it was nearly time for the announcement of King and Queen.
“Hey.”
Kevin was so startled that he actually yelped, spinning around. Mike stood there, mostly in shadow, hands shoved into the pockets of his tux, hair slicked back. He smiled sheepishly, and Kevin just stared for a moment before saying numbly, “You’re James Bond. You look, uhm. You look good.” His cheeks flushed.
Mike came closer, studying him a moment, and then said quietly, “You look fucking amazing.”
He was close enough now that Kevin could feel him breathing, and he went very still and valiantly didn’t run away. “I’m sorry,” Mike said.
It was so unexpected that it took Kevin a moment to shift from mentally begging Mike to kiss him and when he finally did, he said, “What?”
“I’m sorry. I know you really liked Efron.” There was something off about Mike, and Kevin couldn’t figure it out. “And he was a dick to you, and you might be mad over what I did, but he fucking deserved it.”
Kevin shook his head once to clear it. “Mike,” he said, reaching out, touching his hand. “That isn’t-I don’t-”
Mike reached up and carefully, gently, ran his thumb along Kevin’s cheek. “Your whisker is smudged,” he said with a small smile, and Kevin finally placed what was different about him. He looked sad.
“Mike,” Kevin said again, desperately. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”
“You didn’t do anything,” Mike told him.
“Then why are you being strange? Why won’t-why won’t you just kiss me?” he whispered.
Mike studied him for a moment and then said carefully, “I’m not a consolation prize, Kevin.” He turned and walked carefully away, and Kevin stared after him, breaking.
**
The lighting booth was actually just a panel built into the wall beside the curtain on stage, hidden in the shadows, and Kevin hid there after Mike walked away from him. His hands were shaking and he couldn’t think, couldn’t focus at all. He was startled when Demi appeared beside him.
“Almost ready-Kevin? Are you okay?” she asked, squinting at him in the darkness.
He looked at her and opened his mouth to tell her he was fine, and instead, he just shook his head a little and let out a trembling breath. “I think I screwed up,” Kevin told her, and she touched his shoulder.
“What happened? I’m sure it’s fixable.”
He closed his eyes and said, “I just-Demi, you’re never scared, of anything, ever, are you? You don’t get it, what it’s like to be scared all the time, scared that you’ll screw up and everyone will laugh at you, but it’s so stupid, because who cares what they think? They’re already laughing and now it’s too late.”
“Kev. Kevin, hey. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. “What happened?”
“I was so scared of admitting that I liked guys but everyone found out anyway and the only person I convinced was Mike and now he thinks I don’t like him at all.”
“Oh, Kevin,” she said softly, cupping his cheek. “Listen to me, we can fix this, okay? Just-we can fix it, I’ll get William to talk to him...”
He shook his head wildly. “We can’t, we just-he made his decision and he walked away from me and-”
She tugged at his hair gently. “How many times did you run away from him?” He just ducked his head, taking a deep breath, and she sighed. “Bring up the houselights, Kevin,” she said. “We’ll fix it afterwards.”
“Yeah,” he said, but he was pretty sure this wasn’t fixable, and if it was, he’d have to fix it himself.
He brought up the houselights and the music cut out. Demi ducked out of the curtain to watch the announcement, made by Miley, who was head of the party planning committee, and Kevin turned them out, leaning his head against the wall and focussing on breathing.
He smiled a tiny bit without any amusement when Zac was named King of the Night, because as if there had ever been a doubt. Zac’s speech was just as irritatingly smug as Kevin had expected to be, and he closed his eyes again as he took deep, calming breaths.
And then he was named Queen of the Night, and Kevin’s head jerked up as he stared at the crack between the curtains, where a sliver of light spilled through the darkness. He didn’t understand, not Miley’s confused announcement, not the laughter of the audience, not the muffled giggle as someone behind him shoved him roughly.
He stumbled out onto the stage, his arms flailing awkwardly, nearly falling to his knees, and then froze, barely able to see the laughing crowd through the lights, but he could hear them. Miley smiled a little awkwardly and dropped the crown on his head, and Zac was there, hysterical, laughing as he stumbled off stage.
Kevin wanted to be sick. He wanted to die. His cheeks were burning, his throat felt tight, and he thought for one terrifying, dizzying moment, that he was going to pass out.
He straightened up slowly, his breath sounding loudly in his ears, and he wanted to run, but Kevin was so fucking sick of running. He heard someone screaming-Selena, probably, or Demi, furious... maybe even Frank, probably kicking someone’s ass in the audience. Kevin shuffled closer to the mic, hesitating only a moment before swallowing hard. Maybe the difference between starring in a teen movie and being the plotless sidekick was in having the courage to make a move, the courage to go after what you want.
He was so sick of running.
He stepped up to the mic, and barely anybody noticed. People were still laughing at him and he didn’t care, or tried not to care. His voice was barely audible, trembling badly, and he had to clear his throat before he could speak at all.
“Mike,” he said, and then, before he could say anything more, Mike was there, taking him by the wrist.
“Fuck this,” Mike said, voice tight, furious. “Fuck them. You don’t need to do this, c’mon.” He tugged him towards the edge of the stage, standing between Kevin and the audience like a shield. Kevin smiled at him shakily and then shook his head, closed his eyes, and mumbled, “It’s a gesture, Mike, shut up. A grand freaking gesture.”
Then he took a deep breath and said into the mic, “I stopped noticing him at all the first time you spoke to me. He’s not worth it, none of them are worth it, and I’m so sorry.”
Then, still shaking badly, he turned to Mike and straightened his crown. He smiled again, small and rueful, and said softly, away from the mic, “I really screwed up.”
Mike looked hesitant for a moment, chewing his bottom lip, some of his hair having slipped from its James Bond style, falling to cover his eyes and brush his cheeks. Kevin wasn’t used to him looking hesitant.
“I really like you,” Mike said quietly. “I’ve liked you for ages.”
“Okay,” Kevin told him, nodding a little, stepping closer. “That’s-that’s good, I-” He gave up with a small, frustrated growl, and leaned up on his tiptoes, wrapped his arms around Mike’s shoulders, and kissed him.
Mike kissed him back, tipping his head and biting his lip but keeping the kiss light, playful. His hands held Kevin’s hips. He mumbled against his mouth, “They might say shit about you.”
“Fuck them,” Kevin said, kissing him again. Mike grinned against his lips, knocked the crown off his head, and tugged him close, licking his way into Kevin’s mouth. Around them, the sound of laughter had dropped off, replaced by grunts and curses as Demi, Selena, Frank, Sisky, the Way Brothers, and everyone else who mattered tackled the rest of the audience to the ground.
The End
Download it!
1. Marchin' In - Lo-Fi-Fnk
2. Blister In The Sun - Still Standing
3. Gotta Get A Problem - Mates of State
4. Meltdown - Gravy
5. Get Up And Go - Broadcast 2000
6. Me Me Me - Lars And The Hands Of Light
7. I Don't Know Why I Love You - The House of Love
8. Asking Why - Memorial Beach
9. Nervous - We Were Pirates
10. Apples And Pairs - Slow Club
11. Home - Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros
12. Swim - Surfer Blood
13. Josie And The Pussycats - Juliana Hatfield & Tanya Donelly
Bonus: Josie & The Pussycats - TV Theme (Patrice Holloway)