Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Snowflakes littered the Goodman's front yard as Cyrus watched the little white flecks dance by the window. It was a lazy Thursday morning; the snow fell hard enough the night before that the administration decided to cancel school. Cyrus, of course, was ecstatic when he heard the news, and couldn't go back to bed, so he spent time looking out the window. His mom and stepdad had already left for work, leaving him alone for the day. His mom had left food in the fridge for him to warm up, but Cyrus wasn't in the mood for reheated matzo soup. He thought about texting Andi or Buffy, but remembered that they were away on a trip to Arizona to help Buffy move in, so that was a dud. He took out his phone, and mindlessly clicked on Jonah's number, the cursor blinking monotonously;

[Cy-Guy: hey jonah, wanna hang?]

Cyrus sent the message without hesitation, and drummed his fingers against the table waiting for a response.

“C’mon, Jonah, answer the text,” he mumbled impatiently, “we both know you’re not ‘out with Andi’ today,” he added, mildly defeated. Ever since the Open Mic and Jonah and Andi’s kiss, Cyrus had been a little, err, a lot jealous, even though he tried to smile through it. He’d avoided Jonah for a while, but decided that the best way to handle the situation would be to talk to Jonah, openly and honestly. Why Cyrus didn’t feel as though he was going to faint was beyond him. Suddenly his phone buzzed, and Cyrus opened his text messages with anticipation.

[JoLamaJama: can’t. out with family. won’t be back till tomm. sry cy]

Cyrus sighed, almost in relief, as he extended his legs out over the edge of the couch. “Great, now what?” he grumbled, his stomach doing the same. Oh, shoot, I didn’t eat breakfast, he thought to himself, the house’s deafening silence hurting his ears. He needed to be hanging out with someone, anyone , for that matter. He scrolled through the limited list of his contacts and hesitated on one.

“I know the chance is really low,” he admitted, already typing out a message, “but what have I got to lose?” he added, hitting send, and reading the message he just sent.

[Cy-Guy: hey tj, do you wanna come over? my parents are out and i’m making breakfast, so you can have some too, if you like. if you don’t i get it that you don’t wanna hang out with a loser like me but, whatever]

And after he sent it, he immediately regretted it. “Geez, could you be any more desperate, Cyrus?” he scolded himself, “You were just starting to have TJ not dislike you, and you just send a text out of the blue? This is so sad, Alexa play Despacito,” Cyrus sighed, and the Alexa on the coffee table responded, Cyrus bopping his head to the rhythm. Just as the song reached the chorus, Cyrus’ phone buzzed, and his heart felt like it stopped.

[Not-So-Scary-Basketball-Guy: yeah sure, im down for that. be there in like 10]

“Oh my gosh,” he uttered, almost paralyzed with shock. TJ actually wanted to hang out with him? How? Why? Before he got too lost in his train of thought, Cyrus hurried around the lower level of the house to organize everything a little. He adjusted the pillows on the couch, arranged the chairs in the dining room to be just so, and then advanced towards the kitchen to get ready for breakfast.

“What do sports people eat? Kale?” Cyrus wondered aloud, looking through his fridge as well as his pantry. “TJ’s just going to have to suffer next game because we’re making pancakes,” Cyrus decided, getting out the ingredients for his famous Chocolate-Chip Strawberry Pancakes. He made them every year for his birthday, as well as his parents’ birthdays, and they were always a hit. To speed up the work, Cyrus pre-diced all the strawberries into small pieces, and ate a few in the process. In the middle of his preparations, the doorbell rang, and Cyrus nearly dropped the bowl of strawberries on the floor he was so startled. Wiping his hands quickly on a towel, he rushed to the door as to not keep TJ waiting.

“Hey,” Cyrus said, awkwardness creeping into his voice as he tried to find something for his hands to do. “Come on in, Not So Scary Basketball Guy,” he joked, cracking a weak smile and stepping aside for TJ to enter.

“Oh, so now we’ve added ‘Not So Scary’?” TJ teased, taking off his shoes at the front door, “Thank goodness I’m not terrifying anymore,” he added, flashing a smirk of a grin as he shut the door behind him.

“Oh c’mon, you’re all bark and no bite,” Cyrus reminded him, crossing his arms in defense. His stomach growled and it sounded like there was a dying whale trapped in his gut. “And that means we should start making breakfast,” Cyrus mentioned, mildly embarrassed, as he led TJ into the kitchen. The countertop had all the ingredients for pancakes neatly organized into a small corner, and all the utensils were by them, ready for use.

“I’m really hoping you’re not going to make me eggs or something healthy like that,” TJ warned, taking a seat and propping his elbows up on the countertops.

“Whaaaat?” Cyrus drawled, happy he didn’t find kale in the fridge, “No way...Jose,” he added. Of course Cyrus would quote a musical, being the theatre nerd that he was. “Only pancakes, of course. The breakfast of champs!” Cyrus proclaimed, slamming his fist on the countertop, wincing in pain.

TJ laughed breathily, pushing his blond locks back. “Don’t hurt yourself before the food is made, Underdog. Afterwards, as long as I have my pancakes, you have my permission to roll down the stairs,” he joked, his eyes smiling along with his lips.

Cyrus merely rolled his eyes, putting his hands on his hips. “Okay, okay, I see how it’s gonna be,” Cyrus snickered, his eyes narrowing and his lips pulling into a devious smile, “you want me to slave away and make you pancakes?” he sneered jokingly, nearly dissolving into laughter.

TJ shrugged, looking down at the bowl of strawberries. “Basically,” he replied, popping a few pieces in his mouth, smiling while he chewed.

“Alright, well let’s make this a little more interesting, shall we?” Cyrus suggested, waltzing around the kitchen mischievously. “How about a challenge, oh competitive one,” Cyrus quipped, glancing at TJ, “you and I are gonna have a pancake battle. And if, or should I said when I win, you have to buy me baby taters for a week,” Cyrus said. “You in?”

TJ looked up at Cyrus and smiled, the shorter boy starting to wonder if this was such a good idea anymore. “You know what? Yeah, bring it on,” TJ accepted, cracking his knuckles, “And when I win, you need to come to my basketball games for a week, with those megaphones,” TJ dared, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms and legs. Nevermind the fact that TJ had never in his life cooked anything other than eggs (which he burned, by the way); he wanted to win.

“Deal,” Cyrus confirmed extending his hand for TJ. They shook hands and only then and there did Cyrus realize how soft TJ’s hands were. He didn’t expect from someone who probably lifts weights and handles a basketball all day.

“Alright, Underdog,” TJ started, carefully tugging his sleeves up to his elbows, “let’s do this thing,” he added with his signature smirk, the one that looked like he’d punch the living daylights out of you.

“On your mark, get set, bake!” Cyrus cheered, rushing for the ingredients. He’d made the recipe a thousand times (well, more like 15) so he knew exactly what he was doing, expertly measuring the dry ingredients, and combining them with the wet, tossing in strawberries.

TJ, on the other hand, had literally no idea what he was doing, so he tried to copy what Cyrus was doing. When Cyrus added some white powder (baking soda, he later learned), TJ would try to do the same. What he couldn’t properly see, he would eyeball the amount; unfortunately, this lead to him adding ¼ cup of baking soda. TJ lunged for the flour, accidentally knocking it down in the process, and a cloud of flour formed, looking like it was snowing indoors, as well as outdoors. After the cloud had settled and the boys had finished their coughing fits, they looked at each other and laughed, doubling over.

“You look like Frosty the Snowman!” TJ snorted, ruffling the flour out of his own hair. “Here, let me,” he started, brushing through Cyrus’ hair, Cyrus shutting his eyes to block out the flour, as well as to not embarrass himself in front of TJ. He kept his eyes closed for a few more moments, before opening them, the light a little brighter than he remembered.

“It appears you may not be as talented as you thought, Kippen,” Cyrus chuckled, setting his bowl of pancake batter by the griddle, already smoking from the heat. Muttering something under his breath, TJ grabbed his bowl of what one could consider pancake batter, and set it on the other side of the griddle. TJ’s batter looked much lumpier than Cyrus’s, and it didn’t have as many strawberries or chocolate chips, since TJ ate most of them before he started. Cyrus poured a few ladles of the batter onto the griddle, the sound of them hitting the metal filling the air. TJ attempted to replicate what the shorter boy did, but the pancakes ended up being misshapen, and he burned almost all of them. The boys stacked their pancakes on plates, and set them on the table, both of them looking at them for a while.

“Well,” Cyrus said, feeling mildly bad for TJ, “I, uh, do you wanna try mine?” he asked, pushing the plate towards him. TJ pushed his plate of pancakes towards Cyrus, the look on his face one of fear.

TJ took a bite of Cyrus’ pancake, and you could practically see the serendipity rush into his body. “Good lord, Underdog,” TJ started, finishing the rest of the pancake in one swift bite, “open a breakfast business,” he complimented, grabbing a second pancake. “Now you have to try mine,” he urged, munching on Cyrus’ pancakes.

Tentatively, Cyrus grabbed one of TJ’s pancakes; it was soft to the touch, but one side was almost completely burnt, and it felt quite dense. He took a careful bite and immediately regretted it. Waaaay too much baking soda, he thought to himself, trying to smile. “Mm, it’s uh,” he mustered, faking a smile, “an interesting flavor...and texture,” he added, forcing himself to swallow, shuddering.

“I know that it’s garbage, don’t even try,” TJ corrected, Cyrus immediately dropping the act.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” Cyrus admitted, quickly pushing TJ’s pancakes aside and stuffing one of his own into his mouth, visibly relaxing.

“Guess you won,” TJ muttered, defeated, “just let me know when you want baby taters,” he added, getting up to leave.

“Wait!” Cyrus exclaimed a little too excitedly, grabbing onto TJ’s sleeve to try and pull him back, his face heating up. “I-uh, you know, I could show you how to make pancakes, you know, better ones?” he suggested, letting go of TJ’s shirt and fiddling with his own.

TJ knitted his brows together in confusion. “You seriously want to teach me , TJ Kippen, kitchen disaster, how to make pancakes? ” he questioned, crossing his arms.

Cyrus felt himself shrink into his own body. “Uhm, yes?” he squeaked meekly, clearing his throat to sound more confident. “Uh, I mean, s-sure, if you’d like to. Anyone can cook. Says so right in the movie Ratatouille,” he mentioned, testing the waters with a weak smile.

TJ thought it over for a few moments, before grinning. “You know what? Sure, let’s make some more pancakes. Anything is better than those ones,” TJ muttered, pointing to the stack of monstrosities that were TJ’s batch of pancakes.

The duo got to work, Cyrus reading off the proper measurements to TJ, and TJ following the directions exactly. This time, thankfully, none of the flour spilled on the ground. By the end, TJ had a luxurious batter ready to be made into pancakes. He spooned the batter onto the griddle, and waited until they were ready.

“Okay, I think they’re ready to be flipped,” Cyrus informed him, handing him the flipper for the pancakes. TJ tried to flip the first one, but it ended up folding in on itself and turning into a pile of batter.

“Told you I couldn’t do it,” TJ sneered, putting the flipper down in frustration. Cyrus walked up to him slowly and took it into his hand.

“Here, let me help you,” Cyrus suggested placing TJ’s hand near his own and walking over to the griddle. Gently, he helped TJ slip the flipper under the pancake, and successfully flip it on the other side.

“See!” Cyrus chirped, not letting go of the flipper, “I told you I could teach you,” he added with a knowing smile. Glancing down at the flipper, he tore his hand away, feeling tingly on the inside.

“Uh-huh, whatever you say, Underdog,” TJ scoffed, placing the flipper down, and breaking the pancake that they had just made in half, handing one half to Cyrus.

“Mm, see? So much better!” Cyrus exclaimed, swallowing the rest of the pancake. “You may not be half bad at this, Kippen,” he chuckled, taking a seat on one of the kitchen stools.

“Mm-hmm,” TJ murmured with a tiny smile, sitting by Cyrus in one of the other stools. The boys ate their pancakes in relative silence, save for the hum of the heater. When they were all gone, the boys leaned back in their seats, letting out simultaneous sighs of satisfaction.

“I, uh,” TJ started, hopping out of his seat, “I wouldn’t want to overstay my visit,” he added, almost inaudibly, but Cyrus caught it. Was TJ actually capable of saying something, dare he call it, polite? Cyrus scrambled to get out of his chair, taking a step towards TJ.

“You’re not overstaying your visit, dude,” Cyrus reminded him, looking up at the taller boy, “ I asked you to come over, remember? I mean, you can leave whenever you want, but I’m not gonna kick you out. Besides my parents won’t be home till late, so you’re welcome to stay as long as you want,” he offered kindly.

“Oh,” TJ said lamely, putting his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. “Thanks,” he added after a slight pause, unsure of what to say.

“So, what do you wanna do? We can watch TV, or, I mean, if you’re still hungry we can eat something else. We have leftover matzo soup, but I wouldn’t recommend that,” he suggested.

“TV sounds nice,” TJ agreed, and went to take a seat on the couch, slumping down in his seat and putting one leg over the other. Cyrus made a comment on how that was bad for his back, but TJ just shrugged it off and flicked through the channels, finally settling on watching Family Feud.

“Legs! Just say legs, my gosh,” TJ said exasperated. The question asked about what body parts men might describe as “long” on a woman, and the second person had just said forehead.

“You’re really into this, huh,” Cyrus observed, glancing over at TJ. His face was slightly red from yelling at the TV, his knuckles losing color as he gripped the edge of the couch.

“It’s not my fault I can’t handle their stupidity,” TJ half-joked, before his smile faded, “Can’t even handle my own stupidity,” he added, biting down hard on his lower lip, ignoring the TV for the first time.

Cyrus frowned, feeling his heart audibly break for TJ. They both knew that TJ has dyscalculia, but that didn’t mean that he was any less of a person, or rather, a student.

“TJ,” Cyrus said softly, shifting slightly towards him, “you’re not stupid. So you need some help with math, so what?” he added, TJ’s gaze not leaving the ground. “You’re not stupid, and you never were, TJ,” Cyrus continued, tapping his fingers on the edge of the couch. What had started out as an innocent hangout had turned into a more serious conversation about TJ’s “stuff”. Cyrus hadn’t noticed through all his therapeutic messages, but hot, angry tears were streaming down TJ’s face.

“Stop,” TJ croaked, and Cyrus immediately turned his attention to TJ, seeing how upset he was. “Let’s face it, Underdog,” TJ muttered, his voice breaking when he spoke, “I’m pathetic. I mean, look at me,” he added with a squeak, peering at Cyrus. His face was pale, his cheeks wet with tears, and his eyes were red and puffy. He looked so...defeated.

“You’re not pathetic, TJ,” Cyrus assured him, pondering as to whether or not he should give him a pat on the shoulder, “emotions are normal to have and to show. I am literally a walking sack of emotions,” he joked, earning a small chuckle from TJ. “But seriously, don’t beat yourself up like that, man,” Cyrus warned him, giving a gentle pat on his shoulder to cheer him up.

TJ shrugged, pulling his sleeves down and wiping his tears, trying to make himself look more presentable. “Thanks Underdo--Cyrus,” he edited, smiling weakly, “for not, you know, freaking out and not thinking that I’m stupid,” he added, the episode of Family Feud coming to an end as the clapping faded. Cyrus just nodded, happy that his friend was feeling a little better.

“I actually should get going, this time,” TJ told Cyrus, standing up, “I have basketball practice soon,” he said, advancing towards the door. Cyrus followed him to say his goodbyes.

“So, uh, I’ll see you later?” he asked, unsure if TJ would want to hang out with him again, judging by today’s events.

“Of course, dude. Remember, I owe you baby taters for a week,” TJ reminded him, slipping on his boots. He opened the door and was greeted by a flurry of snowflakes, littering his hair.

“Oh, wait one sec,” Cyrus sputtered, rushing towards the closet and pulling out a black beanie. “Take it...it’s cold outside, and it’s snowing,” he observed, handing the beanie to TJ, who took it and adjusted it on his head.

“Thanks,” he mustered, his smile evident in his crinkling eyes. “I’m, uh, I’m free later today, say around 6?” he suggested, already on the other side of the threshold.

“Yeah, sure! That works,” he chirped, bubbling up inside at the fact that TJ actually wanted to hang out with him again.

“Cool. Thanks for having me. I’ll see you later,” he concluded, giving Cyrus a small waves before heading out the door and braving the cold and the snow. Cyrus watched as the little white speckles dotted the black beanie that TJ sported. Once he was out of sight, he shut and locked the door, and took a deep breath. Today is going to be one hell of a day, he thought to himself, sitting on the couch and watching the next episode of Family Feud.

Chapter Text

5:34 is what the clock read as Cyrus paced around his room, trying to find something to wear. "Just pick something," he scolded himself, "it's just tater tots. With TJ. At the Spoon. Alone. Without Buffy or Andi or Jonah," he reminded himself, throwing on an orange sweater and pairing it with khaki pants. "Damn, I look good," he complimented himself, admiring himself in the mirror as he turned around. Twirled was probably the more accurate term, but he didn't want to admit that. Glancing at the clock again, he saw that it now read 5:39; the way time passed was particularly slow this evening, and Cyrus was not about that life. As much as he liked hanging out with TJ, it always made him nervous, for some reason. Like he was afraid to say something wrong, or accidentally make a certain face. And whenever TJ smiled...he couldn’t shake this weird feeling. Nerves is what Cyrus blamed it on.

He made his way downstairs, and took a quick look around to make sure that everything was in order, and slipped on his parka, along with a pair of gloves, and a hat that his mom knitted for him a few years back. It wasn’t even that cold outside, and the snow had all but stopped, but Cyrus was, as he put it, “a wimp when it comes to weather sub 50 degrees”. He figured he’d be back in time, as in before his parents got home, so he omitted writing them a note. He grabbed his wallet and phone, and headed for the Spoon.

The snow had stopped falling, save for the few that fell from the trees whenever the wind blew, but otherwise it was a relatively serene evening. Cyrus regretted not choosing the wear boots, since the snow was up to his knees and his parents had forgotten to shovel the walkway, so he dragged his legs through the snow, not having the energy to pick up his legs. After what felt like forever, he reached the street that the Spoon and was grateful to see that the sidewalk had been shoveled. As he approached the door, he dusted off his pants and walked inside, the tinkling of the bell being absorbed by the din of plates being stacked, and people chattering.

It’s so much busier than usual, Cyrus noted, taking a seat in one of the booths near the window. He pulled out his phone and checked the time: 5:56. Okay, just a few more minutes, just a few minutes, he kept reminding himself, but he couldn’t shake this feeling of anxiety. He could feel like stomach making knots, tighter and tighter until the bell faintly tinkled above the door, and Cyrus snapped out of his toxic worrying. TJ had just walked in and he was...a few minutes early? Cyrus expected to be waiting at least another ten minutes for him, but as soon as he saw him, all his feelings of anxiety were gone. There was something about TJ that made him feel...relaxed. At peace. Cyrus waved TJ over and he took a seat across from him, the bright reflection from the snow on the ground illuminating TJ’s face.

“Did you order already?” TJ asked, glancing around at the populated establishment, before setting his eyes on Cyrus and fighting to hold back a cascade of laughter.

“No,” Cyrus huffed, “I haven’t been able to  get anyone’s attention around here and--” Cyrus stopped himself, now aware of TJ’s gaze. “What?” he squeaked, not intending his voice to jump up that high.

“You’re wearing a parka. And gloves. And a hat,” he added, pointing to Cyrus as he spoke.

“So?” Cyrus retorted playfully, crossing his arms in mock defense. “It’s winter, and I personally hate the cold,” he admitted, slipping off his gloves and hat, as well as unzipping his jacket, and tying it around his waist. “Better?” he asked, sticking his tongue out.

TJ put his hands up in submission and the corners of his mouth pulled into a small smile, his lips parting ever so slightly. “Snarky today, aren’t we?” he countered, waving over one of the waitresses that was free. He asked for two orders of baby taters, with a chocolate milkshake for Cyrus and a strawberry one for himself. The waitress jotted down their orders and left with a smile, TJ watching as she disappeared behind the swinging door. Cyrus did not ignore this, and he couldn’t help but feel almost jealous. But why? TJ didn’t even know her name and they hadn’t even really formally met!

“She’s cute,” Cyrus commented, the word ‘cute’ leaving a bad taste in his mouth, “You like her?” he asked, for some reason fearing the answer.

TJ was caught off guard by his question, and felt the tips of his ears heat up, rubbing the back of his neck. “What? Oh, uh, I mean, I guess. She’s kinda pretty,” TJ said with a shrug, not thinking it was a big deal.

“O-oh,” Cyrus murmured, deflated. He glanced out the window; the snow had picked up, and the wind was blowing in all directions, so the snow was flying all over the place. He watched as a few people held hands and walked down the street; that made him sick. He wanted so badly to have that himself, but Cyrus didn’t know that anyone that wasn’t straight in his life. He spent a large chunk of his time pining over straight guys, which always led to the same dead end.

“Here come our orders,” TJ notified Cyrus, tapping his arm to get his attention, “your food is here,” he repeated.

“Oh...good, I’m hungry,” he mumbled, registering TJ’s touch. It send a zip of energy through his body, causing the boy to blink a few times. The waitress handed them their taters and milkshakes, flashing a small smile towards TJ, and walked away to tend to another one of her tables. Cyrus, again, noted this and slowly started to build an emotional wall; no more trying to convince himself that this was something when it really wasn’t. No more falling for guys who would only let him down with a gentle “I don’t swing that way”. No more hoping that maybe, just maybe, something could be different. Cyrus had had his fair share of guy crushes, and all of them ended up being straight, turning him down. This was no different. He’s just with you because your pancakes didn’t suck, he mentally reminded himself, otherwise he’d be hanging out with his basketball friends. Stop acting like this could be different. It’s not, he thought to himself, barely touching his taters. TJ, on the other hand, was scarfing down tater after tater, and even dipping some into his milkshake before he ate them.

“Cyrus?” TJ said through taters, sipping his milkshake as well, “are you, like, not hungry?” he questioned, pointing at Cyrus’ untouched tater tots.

“Huh? Oh,” Cyrus mumbled, embarrassed to have been caught getting lost in his own mind, “I am . I was just...thinking,” he added, choosing his words carefully as he bit into one of his tater tots. “Yum,” he said with artificial happiness, taking a small sip at his milkshake.

TJ takes a large gulp of his milkshake and his lips pull into a small frown, glancing at Cyrus. “Something’s up with you, Underdog,” he tells him, Cyrus trying to act like everything is fine.

“Whaaat?” Cyrus mustered with minute enthusiasm, “you’re crazy, Basketball Guy,” he tried to joke, instead going for a few sips of his milkshake.

“Look,” TJ whispered, not trying to attract attention to him and Cyrus, “if you don’t want to talk about it here, I won’t make you,” he assured him, sincerity lacing his deep voice, “but I know you have…’stuff’, I’ll call it,” he reminded him, finishing the last of his taters.

Cyrus nodded, trying to focus on eating his tots, forcing himself to finish them, but barely touching his milkshake, his stomach already in knots. “Do you--do you think we can go to the swings?” Cyrus asked, shrinking into himself. Of course he doesn’t want to go to the swings, you idiot, Cyrus mentally scolded himself, why are you like this?

“Sure,” TJ agreed quickly, waving over the waitress to signal that they were ready to pay. Cyrus started to take out his wallet, but TJ waved him off, paying for both of their meals. A flutter of hope formed in Cyrus’ gut, but was quickly quelled and replaced with frustration and defeat when the waitress wrote her number on a piece of paper for TJ, who put it in his jacket pocket. Cyrus put his jacket back on, stuffing his gloves and hat into the pockets before grabbing his milkshake and rushing through the door, completely disregarding the fact that TJ was behind him, as he briskly started off for the swings, his feet pounding into the snow. TJ saw him walking quickly, so he handed the waitress the rest of the change, grabbed his milkshake, and headed out the door, chasing after Cyrus.

“Hey, wait up!” he called, quickly catching up to Cyrus, whose hands were in his pockets, fiddling with his gloves. Cyrus tried to speed up, but TJ’s long legs allowed him to keep up without effort. “Alright, fine, be like that,” TJ sneered, aware that Cyrus wasn’t in the mood to walk with him, “sorry I’m just so terrible he be around,” he added with a huff, kicking the snow ahead of them. The duo had been speed walking so far that they had reached the swing without knowing. Cyrus raced to sit on one, unzipping his jacket and tossing it to the ground. I’d rather freeze than fall for another straight boy, he thought, the wind harshly biting his skin. TJ slowly walked up to him, tentatively taking a seat on the swing next to him, anger and frustration written all over his face. The boys sat mostly still, save for when the wind blew and Cyrus shivered madly, but pretended like it was all fine.

“If you’re not going to talk to me, why am I even here?” TJ retorted, choosing his words carefully. He didn’t ask why they were here; he asked why he was here, and Cyrus definitely noticed, his anger starting to shift from dry to wet. Cyrus could feel his eyes start to sting from the tears, and he bit his lip to try and hold back his tears.

“Good question, why are you even here?” Cyrus countered, his voice breaking. He could tell he was on the verge of tears, so he kept his gaze on the ground. He didn’t want TJ to think he was any more pathetic than he already was.

Sure, TJ could have given in right then and there, put his arm around Cyrus and all could be better. But he was TJ Kippen; he didn’t want to show weakness or vulnerability.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he growled, hearing Cyrus squeak at his tone, but he pressed on “Maybe because you asked me to come here, and I, thinking that you didn’t hate me, came here with you, because you looked miserable at The Spoon? Have you ever considered that I actually have the capacity to care about things?” he grumbled, his voice growing louder with each word. At this point, Cyrus was openly crying, hot, angry tears streaming down his face. TJ felt a pang of guilt rush through him, but he pushed that aside, kicking at the snowy mulch. Silence settled in, and the only noises were Cyrus’ sniffles, and the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

“Sure, TJ,” Cyrus croaked, his voice a complete mess, “you care about basketball. You care about winning. You care about how other perceive you, because heaven forbid someone finds out that you actually have emotions, you couldn’t face the world, right?” Cyrus spat, getting up off of the swing and grabbing his coat, slipping it on, his arms frozen and covered in goosebumps, and stormed away.

Scoffing, TJ jumped off of his swing and chased after Cyrus. “Oh, pardon me for not wanting to look like a total dork ,” TJ barked, the word ‘dork’ coming out much harsher than he intended, and he immediately regretted what he said. “Cyrus,” he said softly, but Cyrus just put his hand up, words unable to form.

“Don’t,” he sputtered weakly, his voice almost inaudible, “I get it. I mean, who would want to be f-friends with a d-dork like myself?” he stuttered, running through the snow towards his house, throwing his milkshake to the ground.

TJ felt like his legs were frozen into the ground and not because of the snow. He felt like his world was falling apart, like he was losing all control.

“Cyrus!” he called out, but to no avail. Cyrus had rounded the corner and disappeared. TJ checked his phone; it was getting late and he should be getting home...but this was important. He’d screwed up, bigtime. Braving the cold, TJ ran after Cyrus, hoping that he could still catch him. By the time that he could see Cyrus, he was entering his house and turning on the lights. No cars in the driveway, TJ noted, relieved that his parents weren’t home yet. He shuffled to the door, catching his breath, and prepared to knock, holding his knuckles inches from the door, before deciding to ring the bell. A gentle tune played and came to a stop, but nobody came to the door. Sighing, TJ knocked, hoping that something, anything, would happen. He thought he heard footsteps inside, but again, nobody came to the door.

“Cyrus,” TJ all but shouted, hoping that he could hear him, “Cyrus, please, open the door,” he practically begged, a lump in his throat.

Cyrus was standing inches from the door, his face red and stained with tears. TJ had hurt him, terribly, but a strange part of him was telling him to open the door. After much consideration, Cyrus unlocked the door and cracked it open.

“You’ve reached the house of the world’s loneliest dork. Leave a message after the tone,” he mumbled, trying to shut the door, but TJ put his foot in the way. TJ took one look at Cyrus through the small space that he’d created by propping open the door, and felt like his knees were going to give out. He looked as if his dog had died, and had nobody to come to. Except, this was TJ’s fault.

“Look,” he started, thinking about how to phrase what he wanted to say, “I-I didn’t intend for that to be so harsh," he admitted, earning a gasp from Cyrus.

“Oh, gee, thanks. That really makes the situation so much better. If only you’d said it in a kinder tone,” Cyrus hissed, the tears forming at the corners of his eyes again.

TJ mentally facepalmed himself, and tried to fix what he’d said. “No, I..I didn’t mean it like that, I just--”

“Just what, TJ?” Cyrus interrupted him, staring at the ground, “no, believe me, I get it. You needed someone to push around so you could brag about how ‘cool’ you are to your real friends,” he growled. Ouch. Cyrus could really rock someone’s core when he was upset. “It’s getting late,” he muttered, “go home, TJ. And forget about the tater deal. The last thing I want is to see you for another week.” And with that, Cyrus kicked TJ’s foot out of the way, and slammed the door, sliding down and dissolving into tears. TJ’s face scrunched up, leaning his forehead against the door. He could hear Cyrus crying inside, and it was eating him alive; he felt like a part of him was being ripped out.

“Cyrus,” TJ pleaded, mentally beating himself up, “look, I get that you’re not going to answer the door, so just listen. I’m...I’m sorry, okay?” TJ admitted, unaware he could actually say those words, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, man. I, uh, I mean, I don’t even know what I did wrong, so, can’t fix that..” he trailed, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’ll be at the Spoon tomorrow at noon. A deal’s a deal, so come if you want. I’ll be there either way,” he paused, realizing he was getting nowhere. “G’night,” he added, before walking away, shaking his head. Only after he had exited Cyrus’ neighborhood did he allow the tears to fall. They were there from when he was at the swings, but he held them back; tears showed weakness. By the time he got home, he was a blubbering mess. Why was he so emotional? Why did making someone, err, Cyrus, so upset make him more emotional than when he made someone else upset? Not willing himself to think about it any longer, he rushed through the door, his parents not back from work yet, kicked off his shoes, and flopped on his bed.

I’m sorry, Cyrus, he thought to himself before fatigue took him over, and he fell asleep.

Chapter Text

It was a gloomy Saturday morning when TJ woke up to a car screeching out of the driveway; his driveway. Tearing off the covers, he hobbled to his window, throwing aside the curtains, and saw his parents' car skidding out of the driveway and speeding out of the neighborhood, the hum of the engine growing softer and softer. Sighing, TJ dragged his feel down the stairs, and ambled towards the fridge for something to eat. There, he saw the note that his parents left him:

TJ--

We're leaving for a short vacation to Vegas. Should be back in a week. Love you.

Mom & Dad

The paper earned some wet spots from TJ's tears. This wasn't the first time that his parents had deserted him for days at a time. They always left a small note, and sometimes they even brought gifts back for him. But not having his parents around made him feel...alone, and unwanted. Swiping away at his tears, he reached for his phone, and "no new messages" greeted him with a gentle glow. Absentmindedly, he went to text Cyrus, a giddy feeling overwhelming him, until the memories of yesterday hit him like a truck, and his demeanor completely changed.

"Why did I have to act like such a jerk?" he wondered out loud, the cursor blinking, waiting for a message. He knew Cyrus would most likely not reply, but he wanted to get a hold of him. Instead of sending a text, he decided to call, tapping his foot to the stupid ringing. Like expected, it went straight to voicemail, saying "Hi, you've reached me, Cyrus Goodman. I'm probably doing something super fun, or wallowing in sadness in front of my TV with ice cream. Either way, leave a message after the tone." TJ felt a small moment of happiness, being able to hear Cyrus' voice. Must of recorded this a while ago. His voice was so high, he noted, calling again. And again. And again. And, you guessed it, again, but to no avail. He didn’t leave messages, since he hoped Cyrus would pick up on the fifth call, but he was wrong. He called a sixth time, and as expected, it went to voicemail, but he left a message this time.

“Uh, hey, Underdog it’s TJ. You’re not answering any of my calls, and I don’t blame you. I was a total jerk yesterday and I-I’m sorry,” he choked out, the lump in his throat returning, “I didn’t intend to be so mean...sorry,” he mumbled, then hung up, groaning. Way to go, TJ, ruining friendships left and right, he thought, walking back over to the kitchen to get something for breakfast. Settling on a bowl of cereal, he plopped himself in front of the couch and turned on Family Feud. Now all that show reminded him was when Cyrus told him that he wasn’t stupid, and that he was no less of person because of his learning disability. To his surprise, his phone buzzed, and he immediately put his breakfast down, praying that it was Cyrus.

[Mom: hope you got our note. b back soon. love u]

Frowning, he turned off his phone and finished off his breakfast, leaving the bowl in the sink. Again, his phone buzzed from the room next door, and he rushed to get it, tripping over his own feet and falling before he reached the coffee table. Wincing, he slowly got up and made his way over to his phone, checking the text and feeling his heart jump into his throat.

[Cy-Guy: swings. noon. bring taters.]

TJ felt relief rush through his body, and didn’t fight the smile that made its way onto his face. Looking at the time, it read 11:30, so TJ was quick to put on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, but he stopped in front of the mirror, taking a look at his arms. He could still make out the little white scars that he’d had for months, as well as the newer, pinker ones. His self-consciousness took him over, and he slipped on light sweatshirt over his tank, and hurried over to the spoon. It was a crisp morning, the snow already starting to melt and turn an unappealing shade of gray. When TJ arrived at the Spoon, the waitress who served him yesterday was behind the counter. Smiling at a relatively familiar face, TJ ordered taters to go, and handed her the cash for it, and told her to keep the change, since he was in a rush. The time now read 11:45 on the clock in the restaurant, so TJ picked up his pace, jogging down the sidewalk and trying to avoid spilling the taters. He could see the swings in the distance after a while, and he saw a small figure on one of them. Cyrus , he thought, feeling mixed emotions of guilt and happiness. As he approached the swings, he couldn’t shake this strange feeling building up inside of him. It felt like how his friends described how they felt around girls...weird.

“Hey,” TJ mustered, handing Cyrus the bag of tater tots and taking a seat on the swings. Cyrus didn’t respond, but took the bag and held them in his lap, unsure of what to say. After what felt like forever, TJ broke the silence.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he mumbled, glancing over at Cyrus, “I-I really didn’t mean to hurt you,” he admitted, “And I get that what I said was rude, I just--don’t know what happened before that. Why you were so...distant,” he mumbled.

Cyrus finally tipped his head up to face him, his bottom lip quivering. “It doesn’t matter, let’s just...drop it, please?” he asked, and the look from TJ was affirmative. It took a few moments before Cyrus’ lips pulled a weak smile, happy that part of his relationship with TJ had been fixed. He started munching on his taters, and TJ knew that their relationship was better than before, and he started swinging, getting higher and higher, before eventually slowing down to keep up with Cyrus.

“How is it that this time I’m prepared for the cold and you’re not?” TJ joked, looking at Cyrus’ outfit, which consisted of a pair of pants and a short sleeved tee with “#thegoodhaircrew” written on it.

“S-so?” Cyrus countered, his teeth chattering, rubbing his biceps up and down to try and keep warm.

“Here,” TJ offered, handing him his jacket, leaving him bare and exposed save for his tank. Gingerly, Cyrus slid it on and felt so...warm. It smelled like TJ; a combination of cologne and mint (which was his shampoo, Cyrus later learned).

“Thanks,” Cyrus replied, glancing over at TJ’s bare arms, worry flooding his eyes. “Hey, TJ?” he asked, though it came out more like a squeak.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he replied nonchalantly, noting Cyrus’ worried expression. “..What?” he dared himself to ask, his heart rate speeding up.

“Do you-do you have a pet cat?” he asked, his eyes focusing on the little marks on TJ’s upper arms. He hadn’t noticed them before, but that was because TJ had covered them up with his shirts or his sweatshirts.

“Uh, no?” he answered, confusion thick in his voice, until he followed Cyrus’ gaze. Oh, no, he mentally screamed, oh no, oh no, oh no, no, no, no, he repeated over and over, crossing his arms and using his hands to cover as much of his upper arms as possible.

Cyrus gently put down the empty bag of baby taters, and shifted his swing so that he was closer to TJ, and able to see more clearly. His look read Please let me. I won’t hurt you , and TJ eventually slid his arms down to his side, open and vulnerable. The two things TJ hated the most; it made him feel...weak. He fully expected Cyrus to give him some sort of lecture, but instead, Cyrus gently put a hand on his shoulder.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Cyrus told him, knowing that TJ wasn’t one to open up about personal things, “but it might help if you do. Maybe not now, and maybe not even with me,” he continued, tilting his head slightly, “But if you ever feel...like you’re going to do it again, please just call me, okay?”

Something about Cyrus’ last remark made TJ stiffen a little. Cyrus cared enough about him to just let him call him, day or night, if he felt upset? Now he really felt bad about yesterday. Cyrus was a great friend; patient, kind, understanding, cute...wait, no. Not cute. Cute was something that you said to a girl who smiles at you and waves. Cute was a baby animal at the zoo learning to walk. Cute was...not something a guy used to describe another guy. TJ just nodded, feeling all the tension he was holding in just come unraveled. All the garbage that had happened, being rude to Cyrus, his parents, and now this. He kept his head down and allowed the tears to fall.

“Go ahead and make fun of me,” he murmured when he finally spoke, his vision blurry through tears. He braced himself for a round of laughter, but it never came. Instead, Cyrus gingerly rubbed his shoulder, comforting him. TJ lifted his head to meet Cyrus’ gaze, the worry replaced with relief.

“I’d never make fun of you..not for this, TJ” he assured him, giving him a gentle pat on the back, “I would make fun of you for not knowing all the words to my favorite musicals, but that’s for another day,” he added with a hint of humor behind his words, earning a breathy chuckle from TJ.

This is it, TJ thought to himself, here’s your chance, go for it , he urged himself. Gently, he put his arms around Cyrus, hugging him. To say that Cyrus was surprised would be an understatement; he could feel his blood rush, hearing it roar in his ears, and that familiar flutter in his stomach returned. It felt...well, he couldn’t really put it into words, but it felt right. After TJ had released Cyrus, he felt this indescribable warmth pool in his stomach, and he knew his cheeks were red; thankfully, he could blame that on the cold.

Cyrus began to swing little by little, just at the edge of his comfort zone. “Legs go up, legs go down. That’s how we make the swing go round. Drag your feet, you go slow. The less you drag--”

“--the more you go,” TJ chimed in, his cheeks a dusty pink in the crisp afternoon weather. He’d heard Cyrus sing his swing song enough time to have learned the lyrics, and occasionally he’d sing along. The duo remained silent for a little bit before Cyrus dragged his feet to a halt, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Can I ask you something?” he inquired, rubbing his fingers against the inside of TJ’s sweatshirt. Cyrus was one of those people who couldn’t talk to someone without doing something with his hands.

“You already did, but go on,” TJ said with a light smile, slowing his speed so he could hear all of what Cyrus was going to say.

“Do you like her?” he spat out, the question vague and mysterious, “the waitress from the Spoon, I mean. Do you like her?”

TJ took a deep breath, his smile slipping off of his face as he came to a complete stop. “Oh,” he mumbled, unsure of where to tread with the question, “I, uh,” he stammered, trying to calm himself. Just say it. If he doesn’t like it, he just won’t hang out with you anymore, he thought to himself. That terrified him; the idea that Cyrus would not talk to him again, he couldn’t handle that. “Do you--do you remember when I said that I had ‘stuff’?” he asked, feeling his heart rate start to pick up.

“Sure. It was the first day you came to the swings,” Cyrus reminded, swinging one leg over the swing so that he was stradling it. “Why?”

“This..girl,” he mumbled, the word almost strange in his mouth, “she’s not really my type,” he lied. Well, it wasn’t a complete lie; he didn’t like this girl because she wasn’t his type.

“Well, you’ll find someone, TJ,” Cyrus assured, punching his arm playfully, “you can be charming when you try,” he mumbled, a dusty pink creeping onto his cheeks.

TJ felt his own cheeks heat up at the compliment, but brushed that off. “N-no, you don’t understand,” he started, taking a final breath, “I-girls they’re...not my type,” he admitted, hoping he didn’t have to go into any more detail.

Cyrus took a moment to process this information before breaking out into a big smile. “I know exactly how you feel,” he told the taller boy, earning a confused look. “I’m gay, duh,” he spilled, giggling.

“Wait--really?” TJ asked, a little shocked to say the least. He’d seen Cyrus with Iris before, and he even heard that they’d kissed.

“Yeah,” Cyrus admitted sheepishly, shrugging, “I’ve known for a while, and I’ve only just now become comfortable with it. It took awhile, but I’ve accepted myself, and other people have too,” he added.

TJ nodded, trying to soak in all that Cyrus had told him. “Thanks,” he said finally, “I’m really glad I told you,” he admitted, shifting his legs so he was sitting like Cyrus, and shifted slightly closer. “But the thought of telling anyone else—“ he started, before Cyrus confidently reached out and took TJ’s hands in his own.

“You’re okay,” Cyrus assured him, tracing circles into his hands, feeling like he was floating. It felt like...how he felt around Jonah; perhaps a bit weaker, but he recognized the feeling. Do I like TJ? he worriedly thought to himself, pulling his hands away. TJ’s facial expression shifted, his smile a little less prominent than before. His hands felt...empty, like something was missing. Obviously, TJ knew that Cyrus’ hands were what was missing, but he didn’t have the courage to reach out and touch them. Instead, he opted for awkwardly clearing his throat.

“Do you—do you wanna come over to my house tonight?” he asked, the word ‘date’ threatening to leave his mouth, “just to like, hangout, or whatever. I’ll let you pick the movie?” he offered, hope lingering in his eyes.

Cyrus thought it over for a moment, before finally agreeing. The boys settled on 7:00, and TJ texted Cyrus the address while they were still at the swings.

“You’ll be there?” TJ asked, worried that Cyrus wouldn’t show up for some reason.

“Totally! Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he assured him, turning to walk away, before stopping in his tracks. “Oh, I still have your jacket,” he mumbled bashfully, starting to slip it off, before TJ approached him and gently pulled it back on.

“Keep it for a while,” he said with a smile, adjusting the strings for the hood, “you look good,” he mumbled, the rest of the words getting caught in his throat, “—in the sweatshirt!” he added quickly, his face flushing, “the sweatshirt fits you good,” he tried to cover up his words, knowing he was failing.

A light pink dusted Cyrus’ cheeks as he clung onto the sweatshirt. “Thanks,” he murmured, starting to walk away, before turning back, “and for the record, I always look good,” he joked, hurrying home to get ready for his hangout with TJ.

TJ watched him run until he could no longer see him, and audibly side. He had it bad for Cyrus, like, really bad. “This movie night could change everything,” he noted, briskly walking off to his house.

Chapter Text

It was 6:40 and Cyrus was ready to head off to TJ’s place for a movie night, when his phone buzzed.
[JoLamaJama: hey cy-guy! whatcha up to?]

Reading that little message made Cyrus’ heart soar, emitting a little squeal as he started texting him back.

[Cy-Guy: heading over to tj’s for a movie night. wbu?] he sent, adjusting his hair in the mirror. Cyrus sported a pair of sweatpants that had a hand-drawn Nike check mark on the end of one of the pant legs. His logic of a few years ago was if he had some recognizable logo, people would talk to him (that didn’t happen). His shirt was a T-shirt that read “Warning: I will break out into showtunes”.

[JoLamaJama: do you wanna come to the spoon with Andi and I tomorrow?]

[JoLamaJama: you can bring TJ?]

Cyrus pondered the offer, the butterflies in his stomach growing and growing. This would give him a chance to hang out with Jonah, but he knew Andi would be there too. He wouldn’t really call them a ‘thing’, per se, more like an experiment, which hopefully would lead to the conclusion that Andi and Jonah are better as friends. Cyrus knew that Jonah’s bi, since he told him last year, and that little glimmer of hope all of a sudden glowed brighter.

[Cy-Guy: yeah, love to!! figure out a time and text me. i’ll see if tj wants to come too.]

The time now read 6:47, and Cyrus rushes to get to TJ’s house. He put on TJ’s sweatshirt from yesterday, taking a deep breath in through his nose and reveling in the scent. The scent of cologne and mint shampoo had slightly faded, but it still reminded him of TJ and how happy he made him feel. The butterflies in his stomach began to rise again, and he swallowed hard. Nope, we’re not going to do this, Cyrus warned himself, besides, you’re going to hang out with Jonah tomorrow! he thought to himself, as he walked down the street. The sun had just began to set, the gentle oranges and pinks painting the sky like a canvas. He could almost make out the sliver of the moon in a corner of the sky as he came up to TJ’s house. Small plants hung on the door and a pumpkin from Halloween still sat by the doormat. Smiling, Cyrus gently knocked on the door and heard a voice yell inside.

“Come on in, the door’s open! I’ll be down in a minute,” TJ called from upstairs. Cyrus opened the door and gasped, shutting the door softly. The house was absolutely stunning; the furniture, all the decor, and the little candles that were on the side tables were a nice touch. Cyrus slipped off his, err, TJ’s sweatshirt, and hung it on one of the hooks near the door. TJ hadn’t come down yet, so Cyrus wandered over towards the fireplace, looking at the photos on the ledge. There were photos of TJ as baby, which Cyrus absolutely adored, ones of him and his parents when he was probably five or six, and a few at what Cyrus presumed to be Thanksgiving. He reached the last couple, the smile on his face slowly fading as he studied them. One of them was a selfie that TJ’s mom, probably, had taken with her husband, but TJ was nowhere to be found. The rest of them were all the same; TJ’s parents, but not him. Fortunately, the last photo was one of TJ when he was younger, with whipped cream all over his face, most likely from his birthday. Cyrus carefully took down the picture frame from the ledge, smiling as he picked out all the little details. Unbeknownst to him, TJ came  walking down the stairs, drying his hair with a towel.

“Oh, c’mon, not that one, it’s embarrassing!” he practically wailed, causing Cyrus to jump and immediately place the photo back on the ledge, his face redder than ever.

“Oh, s-sorry, I didn’t mean to, I mean, I didn’t think that,” he started, completely at a loss for words.

“Relax, I’m just messing with you, dude,” TJ assured him, tossing his towel aside onto one of the chairs. TJ wore a pair of sweatpants as well, and a T-shirt that came down to his elbows, that had an image of a basketball on it. “That was my sixth birthday,” he informed Cyrus, taking the picture down from the edge of the fireplace, “My mom and dad made me a cake, or so they told me. I dove my head into the cake with a ton of force, but it was just whipped cream, hence the cream all over my face,” TJ explained, a small smile growing on his face.

Cyrus loved the photo, and loved it even more after the little story. “I think that’s my favorite photo of you ever,” he remarked, holding back his giggles. TJ smiled, running his hands through his hair, still damp from the shower. Cyrus could smell the mint shampoo even stronger now, taking over all his senses.

“So, what movie do you wanna watch?” TJ broke in, clearing Cyrus’ train of thoughts. “You can pick whatever you want...but please not Marley & Me,” he added sternly.

“Oh, please,” Cyrus scoffed playfully, “I didn’t come here to cry, Kippen,” he joked, pointing a finger at him. “Do you have high school musical?” he asked, making his way to the couch. Cyrus was a sucker for musicals, especially ones with happy endings.

“Yeah, I have that,” TJ replied calmly, trying to mask the excitement that was bubbling up inside of him. High School Musical was one of TJ’s favorite movies of all time, but he was embarrassed to admit it, so he simply selected the movie and pressed play, taking a seat next to Cyrus. As the first song started, Cyrus sang along to the first song.

“This is the start, of something new,” Cyrus sang, trying his best to sing all of the notes, but most of them coming out pitchy.

“It feels so right, to be here with you,” TJ murmured, hoping Cyrus wouldn’t notice. He did.

“I’m sorry, did you just sing the next line?” Cyrus asked, in shock, “Have you seen—Wait, you like this movie?” he gasped, dropping his jaw.

TJ felt his face heat up, his hands gliding up to his hair, fiddling with it. “Whaaat?” he countered, his voice jumping higher than expected, “I’ve never even heard of—I mean, it’s not like I’ve seen it, err,” he stammered, coming up short with a excuse. “Yes,” he grumbled, admitting his defeat, “yeah, okay? I, TJ Kippen, love this movie so much. I know all the lyrics to all the songs, and I listen to ‘Get-cha Head In The Game’ before all my basketball games. Happy?” he sighed, tilting his head back over the edge of the couch.

“Thrilled! Now I finally have someone to sing the duets with me instead of trying, and failing, to sing them both,” Cyrus giggled, punching him lightly. “Now, buck up. Your favorite song is up next,” he reminded him, as Troy expertly dribbled the basketball on the court.

“Coach said to, fake right and break left,” TJ sang, his voice soft at, but after realizing that Cyrus wasn’t gonna judge him, started growing in volume. Eventually, he was on his feet, in sync with all the moves that the characters were.

“Why am I feeling so wrong? My head’s in the game, but my heart’s in the song,” he belted, stopping for breath and allowing his gaze to linger on Cyrus. “What?” he practically squeaked, sitting back down on the couch and crossing his legs.

“TJ, you’re incredible!” Cyrus beamed, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him, chuckling, “Like, holy crap, you are such an amazing singer,” Cyrus added, still in shock.

Having Cyrus’ hands on his shoulders made TJ melt, a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Eh, not really,” he muttered with a shrug, “I mean, I like singing, but I’m not great at it,” he said, before putting his own hands on Cyrus’ shoulders. “You can’t tell anyone about this, okay? If this gets out, I’m going to be the laughing stock of the school,” he panicked, terror pooling in his eyes, “I can’t have people knowing that I like this, or else my whole reputation is finished,” he exclaimed, his fingers digging into Cyrus’ shoulders.

“Hey,” Cyrus murmured softly, taking his hands and placing them on TJ’s, “I won’t tell anyone, I swear,” he promised, and TJ loosened his grip. “You can be ‘TJ Kippen: Scary Basketball Guy’ at school, and ‘TJ Kippen: Musical Softie’ when it’s just us,” Cyrus joked, seeing TJ visibly relax.

‘Just us’. The words rang in TJ’s head like bells, unable to concentrate on anything for a few moments before snapping back into reality.

“Thanks,” TJ said, relieved, glancing up at the TV. Through all their talking, they’d reached ‘When There Was Me And You’. “Aw, I love this song,” TJ openly admitted, “her vocals are incredible,” he added, waiting with anticipation.

“Can we—can we skip this one?” Cyrus asked meekly, causing TJ to pause the movie.

“What? C’mon, it’s like one of the best songs in the movie! I promise I won’t sing through this one,” he chuckled, before noticing the more somber expression on Cyrus’ face, and his smile disappeared. “Underdog,” TJ started, “I feel like I know you well enough to say that something’s bothering you. And you’ve helped me deal with my stuff, so I’m going to do the same,” he insisted, waiting for Cyrus to reply.

“TJ,” Cyrus started weakly, his gaze down on his knees, “have you ever liked someone? Not just like ‘oh they’re cute’, but like it pains you to see them knowing that your chances with them are slim to none?” he rambled, his breath now shaky, on the verge of tears.

TJ felt like he was being read his autobiography as he listened to Cyrus. “Yeah, actually I do. It sucks,” he added plainly.

Cyrus sighed, letting a few tears fall. “I just—I know he doesn’t like me, I know it,” he cried, swiping away at his tears.

“C’mon, Cy,” TJ hummed, rubbing his back to comfort him, “any guy would be lucky to be with you,” he reminded him, “so, what’s this guy like anyways?” TJ asked, hope and butterflies forming in his gut.

Cyrus let a breath out of his nose, and smiled weakly. “Oh, he’s so great. He has really nice hair and is, like, super handsome, but that’s beside the point,” Cyrus began, clearing his throat, “He is, well, not straight, at least that’s what he told me. He’s kind, supportive, and makes me laugh when I need it. He gets me completely, but I think that he thinks of me as only a friend,” Cyrus admitted.

TJ fought to keep himself from screaming externally. Cyrus really thought all that about him? He was so...thoughtful, to say the least.

“I—I know exactly what you mean…That guy must be someone you know pretty well,” TJ commented, shifting slightly closer to Cyrus, a bubble of hope rising within him.

Cyrus nodded, a small smile crossing his mouth. “We’ve only really gotten close this year,” he admitted, twiddling his fingers, glancing up at TJ.

“Yeah?” TJ chirped, his legs mere inches from Cyrus’. He’s talking about you! TJ thought to himself, beaming.

“And I just—I don’t like the song because it reminds me of how I keep thinking that he doesn’t like me, you know, more than a friend,” he admitted, his smile faltering.

“Cyrus,” TJ began, trying to mask the excitement in his voice, “whoever this guy is,” TJ added, with a hint of hope in his voice, “I’m sure that he likes you. Like 100% sure, according to the way you described him.” Cyrus turned to TJ, a pale blush dusting his own cheeks. In that moment, the duo locked eyes and TJ’s grey-blue eyes met with Cyrus’ amber ones with gold flecks.

“You—you really think Jonah likes me?” Cyrus beamed, a sense of euphoria taking over his body.

‘Jonah’. Jonah, TJ mentally repeated, almost unable to comprehend what had just happened. The whole time, Cyrus was talking about Jonah, not him.

“Jonah?” TJ muttered, unable to describe this feeling. It felt like all the joy he’d ever felt had just rushed out of his body. It felt like he was falling, faster than anyone should, and nobody was going to catch him. It felt...awful.

“Yeah!” Cyrus piped up, giddiness overwhelming him, “oh, speaking of Jonah, he asked if you wanted to come hang out with him and Andi and me at the Spoon tomorrow?” Cyrus asked.

“Yeah, whatever,” TJ croaked, his voice on the verge of breaking. But he couldn’t break down here, not now; not while Cyrus was still there.

“Great! I’ll let him know you’re coming,” Cyrus exclaimed, firing a quick text to Jonah and slipping his phone back in his pocket.

TJ just nodded, and unpaused the movie, the song striking a new chord within him. Now he understood why Cyrus hated the song; it brought him back down to reality, and it did the same for TJ. Cyrus didn’t like him more than a friend; that was all his imagination. He fought back tears during that song and the rest of the movie, until the credits rolled, then turned off the TV.

“Thanks for having me over...and helping me with my ‘stuff’,” he added, smiling sheepishly as he made his way to the door.

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered rather coldly, swallowing hard. “I’ll see you tomorrow—just let me know when,” he added.

“You got it!” Cyrus shot back with finger guns, before tentatively leaning in to give TJ a hug. “You’re a great friend, TJ,” he mumbled into his shirt. TJ felt the butterflies rise in his stomach, trying to quell them, but failing. Cyrus always made him feel..like that.

Releasing him, Cyrus waved goodbye, and TJ watched him walk away until he was a speck in the distance. He then shut the door, and scrambled up the stairs, entering his room and slamming the door shut.

“Th-that’s it,” he mumbled through tears, “from now on, no more hanging out with him one on one. I can’t do that. It’s too...painful,” he decided, biting down harshly on his lower lip. He glanced into the bathroom, seeing the familiar gleam.

No, he instructed himself, not again, you promised. You promised yourself, you promised Cyrus, you— he snapped out of his thoughts.

“He wouldn’t care,” he mumbled, taking a few steps forward, “he doesn’t care. He cares about Jonah,” he admitted to himself, balling his hands into fists. Before he could enter the bathroom, he got a text from Cyrus.

[Cy-Guy: tomorrow at 4 at the spoon. thanks again for everything today :)]

TJ had to fight the smile that made its way onto his face.

“It’s late tonight,” he told himself, shutting the bathroom door. “Tomorrow's a new day,” he reminded himself, lying awake in bed for while before falling asleep.

Chapter Text

TJ didn’t end up falling asleep until 5 in the morning, so he ended up sleeping till 2:30 in the afternoon. Checking his phone, he saw a barrage of texts from Cyrus.

[Cy-Guy: hey remember spoon with Jonah and andi and me today at 4 (sent at 8:36)]

[Cy-Guy: Wait shoot he moved it to 3 hope you can make it (sent 1:34)]

[Cy-Guy: you didn’t reply to my texts but i really hope you’re coming!! it’d mean a lot to me! (sent 2:22)]

TJ wanted to smile, he really did, but after yesterday’s fiasco, all that he felt was upset and less than. He thought that Cyrus was talking about him, but he was talking about Jonah. Why TJ continuously got his hopes up was beyond him. Seeing that he had a half-hour till he had to be at the Spoon, he got ready with urgency, slipping on a black polo and jeans, before grabbing a jacket, along with his wallet, phone, and remainder of emotional stability and headed out the door. The sun was shining brightly this morning, and he was grateful that most of the snow had melted; that meant no blinding light when he looked down. It was pretty nice, considering it was a Monday. Jefferson Middle and High Schools had just started winter break, and the kids were really excited to have off. More time to sleep, watch TV, or in TJ’s case, pine over a guy he had no chance with. Shaking his head to clear his mind of those thoughts, he spied Cyrus inside, wearing a light pink polo and a pair of khakis. Adorable, TJ thought, feeling butterflies arise, before seeing Jonah. He sat by Andi, but they didn’t look...couple-y? If that was even a term. He could practically see the awkward radiating off of both of them as he walked through the door.

“TJ!” Cyrus chirped, waving him over. The only available spot was next to Cyrus and TJ just glanced up.

Are you trying to kill me? he mentally asked the universe, before sliding into the booth with Cyrus. He smelled like vanilla and...cologne? Since when did Cyrus wear cologne? He made a mental note to ask him that.

“Hey,” TJ managed, trying not to take offense to the near disgusted looks on Andi and Jonah’s faces. Naturally, Cyrus picked up on this and gently placed his hand on top of TJ’s. To say that TJ was on fire would be an understatement.

“C’mon guys, be cool,” Cyrus pleaded, “TJ’s actually a great guy when you get to know him,” he assured them, making TJ emit a tiny involuntary squeal.

Andi’s face visibly softened, and TJ exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “So,” Andi started, stealing a quick glance of Jonah, “have you guys seen the flyers?” she asked, excitement lacing her voice.

“What flyers?” Jonah replied, drumming his fingers on the table.

“The ones about the Winter School Ball thing,” Cyrus supplied, pulling out a flyer from his pocket and unfolding it, laying it flat on the table.

“Fifteen dollars to just go? ” TJ scoffed, crossing his arms, “you know how much ice cream you can buy with that, right?” he commented, earning a chuckle from the trio.

“Aw, c’mon don’t be like that,” Cyrus fake frowned, punching TJ lightly with the hand that once lay on his. “It’ll be fun!” he insisted.

“I don’t even have someone to go with,” TJ groaned, a familiar feeling of worthlessness creeping up on him.

“You don’t need to go with anyone, dude,” Jonah assured him, “I mean, I know I’m not,” he added, to which Andi nudged him hard with her elbow.

“Ow,” he retorted, his mouth pulling into a frown, “keep this up and I won’t take you to the dance,” he added playfully, smiling.

TJ glanced at Cyrus during the awkward exchange and he looked, dare he say it, forlorn? It took the restraint of all of his muscles in his body to not reach out and hug the other boy, so he dug his fingers into the booth seat instead.

“Cyrus, are you going with anyone?” TJ piped up, “n-not that I’m saying that you’re going to the dance. Err, not to say that you’re not going to the dance, but—“ he sighed, taking in a deep breath. “You get what I’m saying,” he concluded.

“Pff, are you kidding me?” he scoffed, crossing his arms, “nobody would ever want to go to a school dance with me,” he muttered.

“Don’t say that, Cy-Guy,” Jonah said kindly. Hearing Jonah use that nickname made TJ’s blood boil for a moment, but the anger dissolved into defeat. Of course other people had nicknames for him, not just TJ.

“Anyone would be lucky to go with you,” Jonah added, looking to Andi for support. “Right?”

Andi immediately reached across the table and took Cyrus’ hands. Although he knew that Cyrus was gay, it still stung a little to see him so in touch with someone else, considering TJ wanted to be that someone else.

“Of course,” Andi added, smiling, removing her hands to adjust her bracelet, “any guy would be so lucky to be around you,” she assured him.

“Thanks, all of you,” Cyrus commented, lingering a moment longer on Jonah, “it means a lot, but I don’t know if I’ll go. We’ll see,” he added, trying to get them to drop the subject.

“Well, even if you don’t have a date, you should still go,” TJ chimed in, “I mean, I’ve never gone to a dance with a date, and it’s been fun every time,” TJ admitted, looking to Andi and Jonah for support. That was more open than he’d ever been around people who he didn’t know that well.

“Yeah,” Jonah supplied, “I went to the Spring Dance last year with friends, and I still had a great time. C’mon Cy, please go!” Jonah pleaded, looking at Cyrus with puppy dog eyes.

“...Fine, but you’re on thin ice, Beck,” Cyrus joked, a small grin crossing his face.

The group talked a while about school, plans for winter break, and left the school dance as a dropped subject. Andi kept nudging Jonah, and he just looked uncomfortable. Cyrus took note of this, and hope began to bubble up in his stomach; maybe he could go to the dance with Jonah. Maybe he would say yes. Maybe, just maybe, Cyrus would get the happy ending that he so greatly desired.

“So,” TJ broke the silence, “any plans for the break?” he asked, not really caring for the answer, but if it meant no more silence, who cared?

“I’m helping Bex at the Fringe,” Andi answered proudly, but a look of panic crossed her face. “Oh, no! I was supposed to be at the store an hour ago! I’m sorry you guys, I gotta go,” she quickly spat out, grabbing her phone and rushing out the door, her footsteps dying.

“What about you, TJ?” Cyrus asked, “Any plans for the break?” TJ noticed that he was looking directly at him, and he couldn’t seem to focus on anything but his eyes.

“Hm? Oh, I have a basketball camp thing,” he replied lamely, “it’s supposed to help us train for the upcoming season,” he muttered, glancing at his phone. “Which—is going to start soon if I don’t get going. Thanks for having me. Catch you guys later,” he added, rushing out the door, and grumbling to himself. Now it was only Cyrus and Jonah alone; anything could happen.

Jonah and Cyrus sat awkwardly in silence for a while before Jonah decided he should probably get home too.

“I’ll walk with you,” Cyrus said quickly, scrambling to get up and walk with Jonah towards his house. The sun had begun to set, and the boys were basked in the gentle orange glow of the sun.

“So,” Cyrus said finally, kicking a pebble across a section of sidewalk, “you’re going to go to the dance with Andi?” he asked, grimacing. He knew that Jonah was going to go with Andi; they were practically dating.

But Jonah merely shrugged, and the smile that he usually sported was nowhere to be found. “Honestly? I don’t know. I mean, she wants me too, right? So, guess I will,” he frowned.

“Dude, just because she wants you to ask her doesn’t mean you have to,” Cyrus assured him, gently giving him a pat on the back and feeling a sense of warmth rush through him.

“Yeah, but I wanna go with someone, you know what I mean?” Jonah commented, the duo taking a left turn at the intersection.

This is it, this is your chance! Ask him! Cyrus screamed in his head. “You—you could always go with, uhm, I mean...anyone would be lucky to, Uh,” Cyrus stammered, feeling his hands clam up and his words getting stuck in his throat. “Doyoumaybewannagowithmetothedance?” he said all at once, taking in a deep breath afterwards.

Jonah stopped in his tracks, trying to comprehend what Cyrus just said. “Wait, what? Slow down and repeat yourself, Cy-Guy,” he instructed.

“I-uh, do you, do you wanna go to the,” Cyrus stammered, trying to communicate with his hands, “like the dance thing? With me? Maybe?” he inquired, his voice higher than Connor Murphy himself. The silence that followed was strangling Cyrus and he felt like he was going to faint.

“Cyrus,” Jonah started, and Cyrus knew it was over. The tone of his voice was thick with ‘you’re a good friend but I don’t like you like that’. “I’m, like, so flattered,” he continued, guilt pooling in his stomach, “but—“

“But you don’t like me like that,” Cyrus finished, defeat flooding his body. All he could hear was his heart breaking and the crunch of the snow underneath his feet. Why he got his hopes up was beyond him.

“I’m really sorry,” Jonah added, “I—I’m, just, sorry,” he tripped over his words, unable to say anything else.

“Don’t be sorry,” Cyrus croaked, failing to fight back his tears, “it’s not your fault,” he added quickly, as they arrived to the front door of Jonah’s house.

Climbing the stairs, Jonah turned and put his hands on Cyrus’ shoulders. “Cy, this won’t change anything between us, you know that right? You’re still my best friend and we’re always going to be best friends,” he assured him, pulling him in for a hug. This was the closest that he’d ever get to him, so he lingered a little while longer before pulling away and wiping his tears.

“I’ll—see you later,” Jonah murmured awkwardly, before entering his house and shutting the door.

Cyrus’ walk home was uneventful, save for the group of guys that were fighting on some sports field, Cyrus didn’t know. He got home, and greeted his parents warmly, as if nothing was wrong.

“Cyrus, honey, your step-father and I have a dinner reservation tonight at the local Greek place. You gonna be okay on your own?” his mother asked calmly, a tired smile gracing her face.

“Yeah, mom, totally. I’m gonna go upstairs and...play some video games,” he lied, bolting up the stairs so his mom wouldn't see him crying. He easily spent twenty minutes lying on his bed and soaking his pillow with his tears before finally sitting up and changing into a pair of sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt, before pulling out his phone. He needed to talk to someone, anyone. TJ, he immediately thought, glancing at the clock. It was late enough that he would be home from basketball camp, so Cyrus sent him a FaceTime request and waited, looking at his reflection.

“Oh my gosh I look terrible,” he muttered to himself, before TJ picked up.

“Hey, Underdog,” TJ said from behind from behind the screen. From what Cyrus could see, TJ was wearing a onesie and his hair was freshly washed.

“Hey,” he croaked, his face red and puffy. He was really upset about this Jonah situation.

“Woah, you look terrible,” TJ slipped, before trying to cover for himself, “err, I mean, terribly upset,” he added.

“Don’t flatter me, Kippen,” Cyrus warned, trying to crack a joke, but dissolving into tears. It’d been a terrible afternoon, and Cyrus was in no position to try and keep all his feelings inside.

“Cyrus,” TJ started, the screen going pixelated for a moment, “you, you know you can tell me anything, right?” he assured him, “whatever’s bothering you, I’m here for you,” he added, propping his phone up on his bed and lying down on his stomach.

“You kn-know the school dance that’s coming up?” he stammered, choking on a sob, “I-I asked Jonah if he wanted to go with me, and, and he said no,” he choked out, new tears dripping down his cheeks.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” TJ instructed him, his heart hurting for Cyrus, “just because Jonah didn’t want to go to the dance with you does not mean that you should think of yourself as less than. Because you’re not. You’re an incredible person with a kind heart and such amazing personality that anyone would be lucky to go to the dance with you,” TJ told him, emotion filling every word.

“Don’t flatter me,” Cyrus repeated, sighing and rolling over onto his back, “besides, I’m definitely not going now. I can’t even dance,” he groaned.

“Did you learn nothing from High School Musical?” TJ jeered, smiling, waiting a moment before asking “where are you right now?”

“In my room, wallowing in my own sadness. Why?” Cyrus shot back, the screen freezing for a brief moment.

“I’m coming over to teach you how to dance. Don’t dress in anything fancy, I’m wearing my onesie over,” he told him, grabbing his jacket and phone.

“Wait—What?” Cyrus squeaked from the other side of the screen, nearly knocking over his phone.

“I’m already on my way,” TJ told him, Cyrus able to make out the shadows of trees outside on the screen. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. See ya,” TJ concluded, signing off.

+

As promised, TJ knocked on Cyrus’ door not even 10 minutes later. When Cyrus went to answer, he still looked like a sad mess, but less so. TJ was practically out of breath since he ran to Cyrus’ house, but that just made Cyrus smile at how much TJ cared.

“Thanks for coming,” Cyrus murmured, rocking back and forth on his heels before he was enveloped in a hug from TJ.

“If you’re ever feeling upset, call me, please,” he whispered into Cyrus’ hair, his head resting on the small boy’s. In that moment, Cyrus felt all the misfortune of the rest of the day slip away, and everything was okay for a moment. Pulling back, Cyrus giggled looking at TJ’s onesie.

“What?” TJ snorted, crossing his arms, “you can’t tell me you don’t own a unicorn onesie,” he accused, sticking his tongue out.

“I never would have pinned you, TJ Kippen, to own or even touch a unicorn onesie in your life,” he snickered, shutting the door behind him.

TJ gave him a small smile, and the duo ventured up the stairs to Cyrus’ room. They took a seat on his bed, and remained quiet for a while.

“You didn’t have to come,” Cyrus finally reminded him, swallowing thickly.

“I wanted to come,” he explained again, “besides, I’m not going to let you go to the dance without a proper lesson,” he added, standing up and clicking through his phone to get to his Spotify playlist. Selecting ‘Thinking Out Loud’, he turned the volume up and extended his hand towards Cyrus. “Time to dance,” he said with a smile, taking his hand, a light blush creeping up on his cheeks.

Cyrus slowly stood up with him, but pulled his hand away. “Wait one sec,” he said, rushing to dim the lights in his room. “Now it really feels like a school dance,” he admired, taking TJ’s hand again.

“Okay, so your hands go here,” TJ guided him, placing Cyrus’ hands on his shoulders. To say that TJ was melting inside would be an understatement. He was going to dance with the Cyrus Goodman.

“And then my hands will go here,” TJ added, placing his hands around Cyrus’ waist.

“Now what?” Cyrus asked. Thank goodness for the dim lights because the boy’s face was completely pink.

“Now you just sway side to side,” TJ instructed, leading him to gently sway to both sides, Cyrus following his lead. This was basically perfect for TJ; him and Cyrus slow dancing to music? In Cyrus’ house? Perfect.

“And that’s it?” Cyrus asked after a while, the song switching to “All of Me”. He was...nervous, to say the least, but having TJ there made him feel better. Calmer, even.

“Well, yeah. Sometimes the girls rest their heads on the guys shoulder, but you won’t have that problem,” TJ chuckled, his cheeks burning a deep red.

Cyrus merely nodded, taking a step closer to TJ. The pair was now maybe a foot apart, and Cyrus leaned to rest his head on TJ’s shoulder, almost not being able to reach because of his height.

TJ emitted a tiny squeak; he was basically on cloud nine. This was all that he’d asked for, and the song paired nicely with it; he liked, no, loved everything about Cyrus; his laugh, his smile, the way he got all flustered when he tried to talk quickly about his favorite things, everything. As the song faded, the duo swayed until an ad started playing, and TJ was quick to pause it. Cyrus shuffled over to the wall to turn the lights all the way on, and the boys took a seat on the bed. It was silent for a while, the awkwardness settling in before Cyrus spoke.

“Thank you,” he all but whispered, “that was...really great. But, I’m still not going...to the dance, I mean,” he mumbled.

“C’mon, Cyrus,” TJ frowned, slinging his arm around the smaller boy’s shoulder, “you should go. Besides, it’ll be fun,” he insisted, trying to gauge his reaction.

Cyrus shook his head, leaning it on TJ’s shoulder. “I don’t want to have to see Andi and Jonah dancing. It’s bad enough I had to see them kiss, but a few hours of, like, nonstop flirting and dancing? No, thank you,” he rambled, feeling a lump in his throat. Do not cry, do not cry, he warned himself.

“So Jonah’s really going with Andi, huh,” TJ commented.

“He said that Andi really wanted him to ask her, and that he’s probably going to do that,” Cyrus corrected.

“Yikes,” TJ mumbled, “that’s—not the way to go about that,” he added, feeling Cyrus turn his head and bury his face in his chest.

“I’m such an idiot for thinking that someone like Jonah would ever go to the dance with me ,” he mumbled into TJ’s clothes, the fabric soaking up some of his tears.

“Cyrus, I want you to listen to me,” TJ started, rubbing his back softly, “You are an amazing person. Kind, thoughtful, passionate, intelligent, literally the whole package. Anyone would be a fool to turn you down,” he cooed, gently lifting Cyrus’ head from his shoulder and wiping his tears. Gosh, his skin was so soft . “I’m not going with anyone either, if that makes you feel better. Please go...for me?” he tacked on.

Cyrus sighed, sniffling. “Only if you help me get ready for the dance,” he insisted, smiling weakly.

“You got it, Underdog,” TJ agreed, and Cyrus leaned into him for another hug. This was probably one of the best days that TJ had had in a while.

“What if he tries to kiss me?” Cyrus exclaimed all of a sudden, a look of panic crossing his face.

“Wait, slow down, what do you mean? What if who tries to kiss you?” TJ asked, puzzled.

“If I end up going with some guy to the dance, by some miracle, what if he tries to kiss me?” he repeated. TJ thought it was a joke, but Cyrus was dead serious.

“Oh, uh, I guess you just kiss him back? I mean, you’ve kissed Iris before, right?” TJ stammered.

“More like Iris kissed me,” Cyrus corrected, “I’ve never actually kissed anyone that I’ve really liked,” he murmured.

TJ’s jaw dropped, and glanced up at the ceiling. Really universe? You’re trying to kill me right? he thought, shaking his head. “Well, it’s not all that different,” he started, shifting to face Cyrus, “You kinda just lean in and tilt your head to one side and, well, your lips just kinda lock in place for a few seconds, and then it’s over,” he explained matter-o-factly.

Cyrus just nodded, but his nerves were getting the best of him, so TJ gingerly took his hands, trying to soothe him. “Don’t freak out,” he coaxed, “you can—practice, w-with me,” he suggested, “b-but like only if you want you don’t have to,” he added quickly, his face beet red.

Cyrus felt his own cheeks flush, crossing his legs. “R-really?” he squealed, a tiny smile crossing his face, “you’d do that for me?”

“I’d do anything for you,” TJ assured him, “Okay, so, just like I told you; lean in, tilt your head, lock lips, and then that’s it,” he repeated, partly for himself as well as for Cyrus.

Cyrus nodded, slowly leaning in. TJ felt like he was going to faint, seeing the younger boy as close as he was. Their noses were almost touching, and TJ could feel Cyrus’ shaky breath on his skin. Just as they were about to kiss, the doorbell rang, and Cyrus nearly hit TJ he was so startled.

“M-my mom’s here,” Cyrus noted, shifting off of the bed. They waited for Cyrus’ parents to head off to their bedroom before Cyrus and TJ headed downstairs, quietly.

“Thanks for coming,” Cyrus beamed, opening the door for TJ.

“Don’t sweat it. I had a lot of fun,” he admitted, his ears burning a deep red.

“I’ll — see you later,” Cyrus whispered, watching TJ leave and turn the corner. He quietly shut the door, and crept upstairs to go to bed. He lay awake for a while, marinating on the evening’s events. It was so...perfect. Nothing could have been better. TJ was such a good...friend? Mm, probably not the right word, but Cyrus was too tired to sort through his mental thesaurus. Pulling the covers over his head, he drifted off to sleep, smiling.

Chapter Text

Winter Break had come and gone, and sooner than anybody wanted, kids were back in school. No more waking up at noon and eating breakfast all day long. It was a lazy Friday morning when Cyrus walked through, or rather burst through, the door, panting. He’d overslept, and was terrified that he was going to be late to first period; math. Cyrus had never really been a math whiz, but he did like it; it made sense that there was a right answer, and multiple ways to get there.

“Cyrus!” TJ called from the end of the hallway, waving a quick goodbye to his friends, “how’s it going?” he chirped.

“Great. Awesome. Docious. Okay. Terrible. Awful,” he rambled, trying to catch his breath. “I’m gonna be late to first period and the dance is tonight and my hair is a mess and—“ he paused to take a breath but before he could continue, TJ stood in front of him, placing his hands on his shoulders.

“Breathe, Cyrus, breathe,” TJ instructed, having Cyrus follow his lead. “You’re gonna be okay, just relax,” he coaxed, waiting for Cyrus to calm down.

It took a few minutes before Cyrus’ heartbeat returned to normal, but when it did, first period was already 10 minutes in.

“I’m late for math!” he wailed, rushing off in the general direction of his classroom before TJ grabbed his arm.

“You’re already late. No point going in now. Besides, Mrs. Andrish probably wouldn’t let you in anyways. I speak from experience,” TJ chuckled, pulling Cyrus towards the exit.

“Where are we going?” Cyrus complained, dragging his feet.

“Swings. Plus, I brought food this time,” he snickered, pulling out some Kit-Kat bars from his pocket and handing one to Cyrus.

“Are we—are we gonna ditch class?” Cyrus asked astonished, seeing the swings in the distance.

“We already are,” TJ called, running for the swings, before stopping in his tracks and smirking. Cyrus looked almost scared, but TJ zipped towards him and squatted down. “Get on. It’s piggyback ride time!” he exclaimed, pulling Cyrus onto him and rushing to the swings.

“How can you even run this fast, with me on you?” Cyrus exclaimed, as the duo arrived at the swings, each of them taking their seats.

“Basketball practice,” TJ supplied, catching his breath. He took out the Kit-Kat bar and took a giant bite out of it, causing Cyrus to nearly scream.

“You absolute monster!” Cyrus shouted, yanking the chocolate bar from TJ’s hands, “how can you eat the candy like that?”

TJ doubled over in laughter, wiping tears from his eyes. “Oh, so you’re one of them ?” he accused, “just give it back,” he pleaded, teaching for it.

Cyrus pondered whether or not to give it back, and decided to break the bar into individual pieces, then hand it to him.

“Gee, thanks,” TJ snorted, quickly scarfing them down, while Cyrus took his time and neatly ate all of the sticks separately.

“Don’t you have a class, too?” Cyrus asked, pointing at TJ accusingly.

“Nah, I have study hall first period. My proctor never shows up, so I usually spend my mornings here. It’s pretty nice, actually. It’s peaceful,” he murmured.

“Aw, TJ has a soft side,” Cyrus joked, which earned him a punch to the arm. There was a brief moment of silence where each boy was left alone with their thoughts.

“So,” TJ started, clearing his throat, “you ready for the dance tonight?” he asked excitedly, starting to swing a little.

“Are you kidding me? Of course I’m not,” Cyrus frowned, “I don’t even know what I’m gonna wear...plus, Andi and Jonah are gonna be there...together,” he added softly.

“He actually asked her?” TJ asked in disbelief.

Cyrus nodded, saying “He was tired of her asking him to ask her, so he went out, bought flowers, and asked her. She said yes, of course, and so they’re going,” Cyrus grimaced, biting down hard on his lower lip.

“That’s messed up,” TJ commented, “they’re not going to last more than a month at this rate, and I’d put money on it,” he added. “Besides, I’ll be there to help you get ready, remember? You’re gonna look great no matter what you wear,” he complimented, his cheeks a rosy pink.

Cyrus merely scoffed. “Thanks, TJ. Sometimes I need some artificial flattery,” he muttered, finishing off the rest of his Kit-Kat bar.

“I’m serious. Don’t put yourself down, Underdog. You’re great,” he reminded him.

“Whatever you say, Kippen,” Cyrus started, before hearing the bell ring. Hopping off the swings, he added “Be at my house at 7 tonight. We can walk to the dance, I live close,” he added, rushing off into the building.

TJ watched him faded away and slip through the glass doors of the school. When he was gone, he quickly took a small piece of paper from his pocket, and opened it up. He’d written down all the ways he could ask Cyrus to the dance, but he didn’t have the courage to actually follow through. Stuffing the paper back into his pocket, he slowly started towards the school, mentally preparing himself for second period; chemistry.

+

The day had gone by at a relatively speedy pace, probably because TJ was daydreaming about Cyrus and the dance. He wanted one perfect moment in time, with Cyrus. He’d gotten close a few days ago when he went to Cyrus’ house that night to dance, but not quite perfect. As last period let out, he saw Cyrus leaving his biology class, gripping onto his book so hard that his knuckles were white. Approaching him, he looked even more nervous than before.

“Dude, you look like you just saw a ghost,” he chuckled, “what’s up?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing. Just—biology, ick,” he lied, shoving the books into his locker.

“Mhmm,” TJ said knowingly, “whatever. Anyways, about the dance,” he started, feeling his hands clam up, “I was wondering if you, might, not that you have to, but if you want to—“ TJ rambled, flustered, “If you—wanted to come over to my house instead. I live closer, so it’d be less of a walk,” he finished lamely, mentally slapping himself for not asking him to the dance.

“Yeah, love to! You know how I hate physical exertion,” he giggled, “I’ll see you later,” he said with a wave, walking home.

Coward, TJ thought to himself, you could have just asked him, but you chickened out. Way to go , he thought on his way home. Now he was the nervous wreck; he scrambled upstairs to pick out an outfit, and ended up with his entire closet on his bedroom floor. After he finally chose a nice maroon blazer and an ivory shirt, he started fixing his hair, slicking gel though it and locking it in place. In his experience with dances, he sweat a lot at dances, and his hair tended to flop down, so using lots of gel was a must. After he’d finished, he started down the stairs to get his shoes when he heard the doorbell ring.

“Cyrus,” he whispered giddily, a familiar smile finding its way on his face. Opening the door, his jaw nearly hit the floor looking at Cyrus. He was dressed in a deep blue suit with rainbow cufflinks, and a tie that had a rainbow at the tip.

“Oh my gosh,” was all TJ could muster, his brain exploding and his mouth unable to form words.

“Does it look that bad? I picked it out myself, so,” Cyrus admitted bashfully, taking a careful step inside.

“N-no! No, my gosh, no. You look—wow, I mean. You look—hot,” he slipped, swallowing thickly and feeling his cheeks match the color of his blazer.

Cyrus’ cheeks flushed a gentle pink as he shut the door. “You’re too kind,” he chuckled, slipping his shoes off. “So, what are doing to me? I mean, I just came in my basic clothes, but like I need ‘the works’ I guess,” he stammered, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Look, if you really want to add sometime, I have some gel upstairs. Follow me,” TJ beamed, charging up the stairs and into his bedroom. “Here, I’ll help you,” TJ offered, squirting some of the gel in his hand and running it through Cyrus’ hair. He felt his cheeks flush, and Cyrus reciprocated the feeling as TJ adjusted Cyrus’ hair. “There you go,” he finished, washing his hands and drying them. “What do you think?” he asked, nerves building.

“I-I love it!” Cyrus squealed, clapping his hands together, “I look like a prince in shining armor,” Cyrus proclaimed, giggling and placing his foot on the bed triumphantly.

Darn right you do, TJ thought to himself, butterflies arising in his stomach. “Should we get going?” TJ asked, one foot out the door.

“Yeah, let’s go!” Cyrus chirped, bolting down the stairs and slipping his shoes on. TJ follows behind him, taking his phone and a couple of mints. It was a beautiful December evening; the sun had begun to set, and a light pink glow bathed the boys in light. The school was close, and Cyrus could see the swings, a small smile popping on his face. As they approached the entrance, Cyrus stopped, and TJ just looked at him.

“Did you get stuck in quicksand again?” TJ joked, before following Cyrus’ gaze; entering the door now was Jonah and Andi. Jonah wore a deep green suit with a black shirt and a white tie, and Andi wore a shirt purple dress with clouds around the hem.

“Hey, don’t freak out,” TJ instructed him, putting his hand on his shoulder, “just, don’t pay attention to them,” he suggested, but to no avail.

“This was a mistake,” Cyrus whispered, ready to turn back and run, “I don’t even have a date,” he moaned, pulling a frown.

“Walk in there like you own it,” he told him, repeating his muffin advice, “you don’t need anyone. You’re Cyrus Goodman,” he cheered, pushing him along until they were at the gym doors.

“Yeah,” Cyrus smiled, his eyes glimmering, “Thanks,” he added, the duo slipping inside.

+

The gym was decked out, thanks to the party planning committee; paper snowflakes plasters the walls, blue and white balloons were scattered around the gym, the lights were super bright, and the music was blaring. It was almost overwhelming, but seeing everyone having a good time helped. Almost immediately, Cyrus made his way over to the snack table, scarfing down a few mini brownies as well as a cup of orange juice. He went around the gym, dancing with friends, and even people that he didn’t know that well. Cyrus did his best to avoid Jonah and Andi for the night, but them meeting was inevitable.

“Cyrus!” Jonah yelled over the music, catching him off guard, “you look gnarly, man!” he complimented, flashing him a smile.

“Thanks,” Cyrus muttered, “you look great too,” he added, before Andi came up behind Jonah.

“Hey Cyrus! You look great! Having fun?” she asked, but didn’t let him answer, “Jonah and I are having a great time, dancing together,” she added, dragging Jonah away by his hand. The look on Jonah’s face read “save me”, but Cyrus was not about to get involved in that mess.

“Underdog!” TJ shouted, catching up with him, “I’ve been looking for you all night, where’ve you been?” he wondered aloud, to which Cyrus pointed to Andi and Jonah.

“Oh,” TJ muttered and understood, “well, let’s...go to the photo booth! There’s no line, c’mon!” he exclaimed, pulling Cyrus along by his arm. At the table of props, Cyrus picked out a pair of huge glasses and a feather boa, and TJ chose a cowboy hat with a chunky necklace. When they got in the booth, they did a nice photo, a silly one, one where they were looking at something in the distance, and then there was one more.

“What should we do with this one?” TJ asked, watching the timer tick down.

Cyrus merely stuck his tongue out and TJ began to laugh, causing Cyrus to laugh as well, and the camera snapped. Exiting the photo booth, they got their copies and admired them.

“We look so good!” TJ exclaimed, putting his copy in his pocket. “C’mon let’s dance,” and Cyrus agreed. TJ, his basketball friends, Cyrus, and a few of the kids from his theatre class got in a little circle and danced along to the music. Songs like “Sweet Caroline”, “Livin’ On A Prayer”, and other classics. After about an hour, the DJ talked into the mic.

“Alright, girls and boys, it’s time to slow it down. Find that special someone and get on the dance floor,” he said, turning on Photograph by Ed Sheeran, and making the lights a little warmer.

Cyrus felt like the room was spinning as he watched people pair off and start to dance. This was always the worst part of a dance; when everyone was slow dancing and he was left to just stand awkwardly and wait for the song to end.

TJ felt like he was going to faint as he walked up to Cyrus and tapped him on the shoulder, causing him to jump and turn around.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Cyrus questioned, looking from TJ’s face to his hand.

“You deserve at least one nice slow dance tonight,” TJ told him, “care to dance?” he asked, feeling his palms start to sweat.

Without a second thought, Cyrus took TJ’s hand and was led to the center of the dance floor. He put his hands on TJ’s shoulders and TJ put his hands on Cyrus waist, the duo swaying side to side.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Cyrus reminded TJ, smiling warmly.

“But I wanted to, Cyrus,” TJ murmured, taking a step closer.

Just like when they were dancing in Cyrus’ bedroom, Cyrus lay his head down on TJ’s shoulder. And in that moment, everything was perfect. TJ felt like he was going to scream he was so happy; it reminded him of working with the kids at the gym.

The song continued to play, and Cyrus’ eyes darted around, before he spied Andi and Jonah; leaning in, tilting their heads, and locking lips:again.

No, please no, Cyrus thought, tearing his head from TJ’s shoulder.

“You okay? Did I do something wrong?” TJ worried, trying to read his expression. Cyrus merely pointed at Jonah and Andi, and TJ understood. “Grab the brownies, and I’ll take the sodas. We’re going to the swings,” TJ whispered, the boys grabbing the refreshments and slipping out the back door of the gym. The tall lamp lights of the school lit the sidewalk, and the boys made their way to the swings, where the light was dimmer.

“I’m sorry,” Cyrus spat out, taking one of the brownies and eating it in one bite, “I ruined your dance with my ‘Jonah Problems’ and I feel awful,” Cyrus apologized, cracking open his drink.

“Are you kidding me? This is the most fun I’ve ever had at a dance! I just—I hate seeing you upset over some boy,” TJ admitted, shifting closer to him on his swing.

“Even the dancing?” Cyrus all but whispered, taking another brownie.

“Especially the dancing, Underdog,” he smiled, feeling his cheeks flush a deep pink, “but we never did get to properly finish that dance,” TJ remarked, standing up and pulling his phone out.

“What are you doing?” Cyrus asked cautiously, rubbing his hands on his pants.

“You are getting that dance you deserve, dammit,” he stayed firmly, placing his phone on the empty swing and taking both of Cyrus’ hands, pulling him up. Again, both boys took their place, swaying from side to side.

“This is so much better,” Cyrus sighed, leaning in and resting his head on TJ’s shoulder. “Thank you so much, TJ. You’re the best,” he murmured, TJ’s face heating up quickly.

This was even better than inside, since now they were at their special place, the lights were dim, and music was playing.

“I’m really glad you came, Cyrus,” TJ admitted, causing Cyrus to lift his head up and meet his eyes. In the moonlight, Cyrus looked ethereal, and his face looked like porcelain.

“I’m happy I came too. You’re really...great,” he murmured, for lack of a better word. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it,” TJ accepted, pulling Cyrus in a little closer, their bodies mere inches apart.

“That first day at the swings, when you left your tutoring with Buffy, why’d you talk to me of all people? You’re TJ freaking Kippen; you’re like the most popular basketball player in school,” Cyrus said with a smirk.

“Oh, hardly,” TJ scoffed, “You seemed like you could use a friend. And...I’m really glad I talked to you, because it turns out that you’re an amazing...person,” he chose, making sure not to use the word friend.

“So are you, TJ, don’t forget it,” he whispered, TJ feeling Cyrus’ breath on his skin.

In that moment, everything seemed to line up; the music was playing, the moonlight was shining on them, and they were at their special place.

It’s now or never, TJ thought to himself.

“Do you remember when you asked about kissing? And I said that we could practice?” TJ reminded him, feeling his cheeks flush.

“Yeah..then my mom walked in and ruined the moment—err, the practice session,” Cyrus corrected, clearing his throat. This kid was a terrible liar.

“Do you—do you think that we can, you know, pick up where we left off?” TJ squeaked, his eyes crinkling from his ever-growing smile.

“Wait—What?” Cyrus gasped, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

Oh, no. He doesn’t feel the same, TJ thought worriedly, scrambling to find something to say. “Uh, you know, for practice. Incase Jonah changes his mind?” he lied, anticipation rushing through his body.

“Oh! Y-yeah, we can do that,” Cyrus agreed, tilting his head up to meet TJ’s gaze. God, was he handsome..wait, no, not handsome. Jonah was handsome. TJ was just...a really good friend who he was about to kiss, yeah.

Cyrus leaned in, tilting his head to one side, and TJ reciprocated the action, leaning down a little to meet the shorter boy’s lips. Cyrus was ultimately the one that closed the gap between them, and TJ felt like his knees were going to give in and he was going to collapse. As cheesy as it sounded, it was as if fireworks went off, and the whole world stopped spinning. When he pulled away for air, he almost whimpered, missing Cyrus’ gentle touch.

“Was—was that okay?” Cyrus whispered, breaking the silence.

TJ was so stunned he couldn’t say anything for a few moments. “Oh, uh, yeah, yeah that was...amazing,” he murmured, regaining his breath, “You’re so...great,” he complimented, his cheeks red as tomatoes.

Cyrus shrugged, taking a seat on the swings as TJ sat in the other one.

“I’m sorry I burdened you with all this Jonah garbage,” Cyrus said sheepishly, letting his hands dangle down.

TJ took his hand carefully, lacing their fingers together. “I’m sorry that that boy is causing you so much trouble and heartbreak. You deserve someone who will cherish you for you . Someone who is always supporting no matter what. Someone who you can always call and vent,” TJ rambled, basically describing what Cyrus meant to him.

“You mean someone like you?” Cyrus said with a giggle, earning a surprised gasp from TJ.

“I-I, uhm, I mean I guess ,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

“Yeah, but where am I going to find another person like you, doofus?” Cyrus joked, releasing his hand and swinging a little. And in that moment, TJ felt defeated.

“Yeah,” TJ muttered, standing up. “I’m going to go back inside. You coming?” TJ asked, already turning to go.

“Sure. Thanks for bringing me out here. I feel much better,” he beamed, running ahead of TJ towards the gym

For the rest of the night, TJ hung around the members of the basketball team and Cyrus when he came around, but he tried to avoid the shorter boy; it hurt too much to see him. Much to Cyrus’ fortune, Andi and Jonah were dancing separately, and Jonah looked relieved to be dancing with other friends.

Some dance, TJ thought, before heading out the door early and walking home. There was no way he would be able to survive another two hours without pining over Cyrus. At least at home, he could do it with nobody watching.

Chapter Text

Saturday mornings were usually a peaceful time for TJ, but this one was anything but that. After the events of the dance last night, TJ was more confused than ever. Cyrus has accepted his invitation to slow dance: twice. He’d leaned his head on his own shoulder, and for crying out loud, he’d kissed the boy...for practice. It was all so much that he’d barely been able to sleep, and he didn’t get up until noon. Grabbing his phone, he checked his Instagram to see photos from last nights dance. Endless photos of girls with duck faces made him want to vomit, but it was all worth it when he saw a photo of Cyrus and his parents. He was so cute, TJ felt like he was drooling. He quickly liked the photo and commented and little dog emoji. Smiling proudly, he scrolled until his thumb froze on the screen; there was a photo of him and Cyrus at the swings, dancing. That wasn’t what worried him, no, that was thanks to the caption.

{Look at these pansies swooning for each other at the dance! Haha! TJ Kippen? More like TJ SMITTEN! #disgusting #twogayboys #yuck}

TJ felt anger building inside of him, and he wanted to throw his phone against the room. Checking the like count, it was teetering on the edge of 200 likes, as well as a few comments.

“Do I want to read them?” TJ asked himself helplessly, clicking on the ‘view comments’ button and immediately regretting it. It was a mess of horribly offensive content that just fueled his hot anger. Whoever had posted it did it under fake name of “JMSExposer”.

“Damn coward,” TJ hissed, before panicking, “Cyrus! Oh my gosh, I hope he hasn’t seen this,” he begged, quickly sending a FaceTime request; Cyrus picked up almost immediately.

“Hey, TJ! What’s up?” he chirped, and TJ’s heart continued to pound like he was out of breath.

“Cyrus? You’re okay? You’re not upset?” TJ said hurriedly, trying to gauge the damage.

“Upset? Why would I be upset?” Cyrus asked with confusion, propping up the phone against his bed.

“Oh—it’s nothing,” TJ lied, feeling his ears heat up to a crimson red. Thank goodness Cyrus hadn’t seen any of the comments or the post.

“You’re a mess of a liar, TJ Kippen,” Cyrus accused playfully, a silly smile on his face. “Why would I be upset?”

TJ contemplates just telling him and then not being able to do anything. It made him sick thinking someone could say something so offensive about Cyrus, never mind himself. “Can I come over?” TJ asked, “it’s..important,” he struggled to say, his fingers digging into his bed.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Cyrus agrees cautiously, raising his brows.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” TJ promised, before hanging up and grabbing his phone. He hurried out to the garage and grabbed his old bike; it was a little small for him, but he needed to get to Cyrus’ house quickly. It took about 10 minutes for him to get there, and every moment that passed, TJ felt like he was getting stabbed in the gut. Parking the bike by the stairs, TJ knocked on the door a little harsher than needed, catching his breath.

“Hi,” he choked out between breaths, taking a few steps in and shutting the door. “Are your parents home?”

“No?” Cyrus almost asked, unsure of what TJ was hinting at, “why?”

TJ slumped his shoulders; there was nothing he could do to protect Cyrus from the terrible post. It was either tell him, or let him figure it out when people point and laugh at school on Monday.

“I need to show you something,” TJ murmured, pulling out his phone and searching for the photo.

“ That’s the big emergency? You could have just sent it to me, you know,” Cyrus grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Please,” TJ croaked, swallowing hard, “it’s important that you see this from me,” TJ affirmed, pulling up the photo. “I’m so sorry, Cyrus,” was all he could say before he handed the phone to Cyrus.

“Hey look, it’s us!” Cyrus piped up, but that was all he said. TJ shut his eyes as tight as he could, unable to bear Cyrus’ pain. After what felt like forever, he opened his eyes and turned to Cyrus. He was a complete mess; openly sobbing, his hands trying to swipe his tears, but failing.

“Cyrus,” TJ murmured, taking a few steps forward, and having Cyrus collapse into him, broken sobs wracking his body. TJ had to fight back his own tears; he was here to supper Cyrus. Gingerly, he led Cyrus over to the couch, keeping his arm around him and rocking him gently. They stayed like that for at least 10 minutes before Cyrus finally picked up his head and revealed his puffy face and red cheeks.

“Wh-who would d-do this?” Cyrus managed to spit out, choking back a sob. This hurt TJ more than anything.

“I don’t know. I guess someone saw us out there and took the opportunity,” he whispered, gently pushing aside Cyrus’ hair.

“Did—did you tell someone we were there?” Cyrus accused, anger lacing his tone.

“Wh—are you kidding? Why on earth would I do that?” TJ shot back, trying to minimize the amount of venom on his voice.

“S-so you could show that I’m a disgusting human being! So you could prove yourself as an apex predator!” Cyrus nearly shrieked, angry tears flowing steadily.

“Stop! Do you really think I’d purposely hurt you? Can you not see that I like you?” TJ all but hissed, his voice breaking. Did he really just admit that he likes Cyrus. Good going, pal,  he thought to himself.

“And I—wait what?” Cyrus suddenly stopped, “did—did you just say you liked me?” Cyrus repeated slowly, glancing at TJ. He looked on the edge of a breakdown, ready to just crack the dam and let his tears flow.

“I—you know, like you...as a friend,” he added after a few moments of agonizing silence. He regretted saying it, but he didn’t want to tell Cyrus how he truly felt; it could ruin everything between them.

Cyrus merely nodded, putting his hand on TJ’s back and rubbing circles into it. “I’m sorry I thought you had something to do with that,” he apologized lamely, “I—you’re a great friend,” he tacked on carefully.

“Yeah, friends,” TJ repeated, the words hitting him harshly. He put his arms around Cyrus and gently rocked with him.

“I’d never do anything to hurt you, Cyrus. I care about you more than anyone else,” he admitted softly, “I hate seeing you upset—I’d do anything to make you happy.”

Cyrus stayed quiet for awhile, before peeking his head up. “Baby taters?” he suggested, his lips trying to pull a smile.

“Sure, let’s do that. My treat,” he added with a smile, grabbing his phone, then frowning.

“Do you have an extra jacket? I biked here in a hurry and didn’t pick one up.”

“Well, I have one that I stole from you,” Cyrus admitted bashfully, strolling over to the closet and tossing TJ his sweatshirt. Slipping it on, TJ put his phone in his pocket; he’d gotten multiple texts about the photo, but was not in the mood to answer them.

“Ready?” he chirped, opening the door for Cyrus. “Ladies first,” he snickered, his eyes crinkling from the smile.

“Very funny, Kippen,” Cyrus teased, walking out and having TJ follow. It was a warmer day, surprisingly enough, and the boys were relieved for that. The Spoon was a short distance away from Cyrus’ house, so they were there in 15 minutes. They took a seat by the window, ordered the taters, and waited.

Cyrus was a ball of nerves. He was so worried that someone would see them here together that he didn’t even register when TJ asked him if he wanted to take his jacket off.

“Earth to Cyrus?” TJ chuckled, waving a hand in his face.

“Oh, sorry,” Cyrus sighed, slipping off his jacket.

“Hey,” TJ consoled him, sliding into the booth right by Cyrus, “I’m here okay? Don’t be nervous. If anything happens, I’m right here for you,” TJ assured him, gently squeezing his hand; that made him melt.

The taters arrived and the duo was able to eat in peace, talking about everything from the best moments of the dance, to TJ’s job at the gym. All was peaceful until they were pretty much done their taters, and a group of basketball players walked in, still in their jerseys. TJ quickly identified them as the junior varsity high school team from Jefferson. The tallest one smirked, glancing at TJ and Cyrus, and the posse approached them.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t TJ and Loverboy,” the boy snickered, a sly look crossing his face.

“What do you want, Tyler?” TJ hissed, crossing his arms defensively.

“Oh, we just wanted to see the couple in action,” he jeered, making a bunch of kissing noises, “what’s your name?” he demanded.

“M-me?” Cyrus squeaked, feeling so small in that moment, “Cyrus..Cyrus Goodman,” he stammered.

“‘Oh, Cyrus, I’m so gay and I love you so much, I’m TJ’,” Tyler mimicked, doubling over in laughter.

“Back off,” TJ growled, slipping out of the booth and standing up, towering a few inches above Tyler.

“Oh, no,” Tyler whimpered artificially, putting his hands up, “what are you going to do, TJ Smitten? Hm?” he challenged, cracking his knuckles.

“TJ, don’t,” Cyrus all but whispered, fear written all over his face.

“Oh, no, Cyrus GAYman is so worried about his boyfriend,” one of the other boys chimed in, earning a high five from Tyler.

“I am going to give you five seconds to get the hell out of this store and leave us alone, or I’ll pummel you to the ground,” he threatened, pushing up the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“Mhmm,” Tyler glared, “I’d like to see you try, Kippen,” he countered.

TJ raised his fist, his eyes locked on Tyler’s face, but he couldn’t bring himself to swing.

“See? Told you so. Hanging out with that pansy has made you soft, Kippen,” Tyler hissed, an evil laugh escaping his lips.

“Get out of our way,” TJ growled in a low voice, “get. Out. Of. Our. Way,” he repeated, his hands curling into fists.

“And what if I don’t?” Tyler retorted, pulling out his phone, “do you want another photo of you and Lover Boy online?” he threatened, ready to snap a photo.

“Back off,” TJ snapped, pushing Tyler with all his might and having him stumble back. “Let’s go,” he said hurriedly, grabbing Cyrus’ hands and rushing out the door.

“I can’t run that fast,” Cyrus panicked, trying to pick up the pace.

“You guys, err, gays , are disgusting!” shouted Tyler from the Spoon, and it was the last thing the boys heard before the turned the corner and raced back to Cyrus’ house, both of them breathing heavily. After a few minutes, they caught their breaths, and took a seat on the couch. Cyrus looked near terrified to approach TJ, who was still fuming with anger. With overwhelming hesitation, Cyrus scooted closer to TJ, but didn’t open his mouth to say anything for a while.

“TJ,” he started, tapping him gently on the shoulder, “thank you,” he murmured gratefully, “for defending me,” he added lamely.

TJ’s anger slowly faded at Cyrus’s touch, trying to steady his breath. “Those losers are going to pay for this,” he growled, balling his hands into fists.

“Hey, wait a second,” Cyrus warned, putting his hands on TJ’s fists, feeling them loosen, “don’t attack them, please. You’re better than that, TJ, I know you are,” Cyrus assured him, finally seeing TJ’s gaze meet his own. His eyes looked a little grayer in this light, the only blue around the rim of his iris.

“But they made fun of you, Cyrus! I—gosh, I wish I could have punched him when I got the chance,” he regretted, sighing in defeat.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Cyrus admitted, “you’re stronger than they are, TJ. You’re a better person, and that’s all that matters to me,” Cyrus reminded him, his voice growing softer as he spoke.

“Cyrus,” TJ spoke softly, interlacing his hands with the smaller boy’s, “I—I can tell you anything, right?” he asked, gnawing on his lower lip.

“Of course, TJ, anything,” Cyrus consoled him, turning to face him. “I’m here for you.”

Just spit it out, TJ thought to himself, opening his mouth, but no words came out. He tried to say something, anything, but nothing.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Cyrus assured him, squeezing his hands, “just...show me,” he suggested.

Show him , TJ thought, unsure of what to do. He took both of Cyrus’ hands, locking their fingers together, his cheeks a dusty pink. Cyrus didn’t seem to understand at all; to him, it seemed like a thing they did as friends.

“I—Cyrus, I,” TJ stammered, flustered, “I like you,” he squeaked, shutting his eyes and bracing for impact.

“You already said that, smart guy. I like you as a friend too,” Cyrus replied, releasing a breathy laugh.

TJ shook his head; his point wasn’t getting across. “No, you don’t get it, I like you like you, Cyrus. Like—more than a friend,” he admitted, his eyes searching Cyrus’ for answered, but he ended up getting lost in his eyes.

Cyrus blinked a few times, a familiar feeling rising in his stomach. “Wait, what? Me?” he squeaked, in shock.

“I’ve liked you since I saw you with Buffy in line for the muffin, and then when you talked with me on the swings, I only fell harder from there,” he admitted, swallowing hard.

“Oh,” was all Cyrus could manage, unsure of what else to say.

“I—I knew you wouldn’t feel the same, but I thought that maybe if I said something, we could—never mind, it’s dumb. I’m sorry for thinking this was something that it’s not,” TJ croaked, feeling the tears sting in his eyes.

“Woah, woah, woah, hold on,” Cyrus rushed to calm him, bringing TJ’s head up with his finger, “you’re not dumb for thinking that. I kinda—feel the same way,” he admitted, blood rushing to his cheeks.

TJ thought he was hearing things; he was known to just imagine things. “Wh—really?” he asked, astonished, “you’re not playing with me?”

“Of course not,” Cyrus promised him, putting his hands on his shoulders, “every time we hang out, I feel this weird feeling, like how I felt around Jonah when I first met him. But with you—it’s different. You make me feel safe and okay and cared about. He—well, he kinda makes me feel nervous,” Cyrus admitted.

A big smile grew on TJ’s face, his world spinning out of control. “You make me feel smart and important and more than just an athlete. I feel like a real, complete person around you,” TJ returned, his eyes darting between Cyrus’ eyes and his lip. Gosh , he could stare at him all day.

“Can I kiss you?” Cyrus asked meekly, already leaning in. TJ barely gave a nod before crashing his lips into Cyrus’, perhaps with a bit too much force. It was magical, and a bit messy, but incredible nonetheless. After a few euphoric seconds, they pulled away, giggling and blushing like mad.

“I am crazy about you, Cyrus Goodman,” TJ whispered, putting his arm around him and shutting his eyes.

“Aren’t we all?” Cyrus joked, leaning his head up and giving TJ a quick peck on his chin.

“So...what do you wanna do?” TJ asked, running his hands though Cyrus’ hair.

“High School Musical sing along?” he suggested, already grabbing the remote.

“Only if I get to be Troy,” TJ countered, turning on the movie.

“Fine. Guess I’ll have to be the Gabriella to your Troy,” Cyrus added with a smirk, earning a grin from TJ. He turned the movie on, and the house was filled with music for the next hour. Although the day had started off rough, it had led to a beautiful ending.

Chapter Text

Somehow the weekend had come and gone in the blink of an eye, and Cyrus found himself at his locker, far too early on a Monday morning. His weekend had been...eventful, to say the least, and his was dying to tell someone, anyone . He hadn’t seen TJ all morning, which relieved him; he wasn’t sure how he was going to react when he saw him. Would he hug him? Probably not, since they were in public and Cyrus did not have the boundless confidence that TJ possessed. Cyrus thought acting normal would be the best idea, but he had no idea what that was. Something next to normal, perhaps, would be okay; close enough to normal to get by.

“Cyrus!” a familiar voice called from down the hall; it was Andi. He was so relieved to see her, and unfortunately happy to see that it wasn’t Buffy; he wasn’t quite sure how she would react to him telling her that he kissed her worst enemy. Probably not well, he presumed.

“Andikin Skywalker, what’s up?” Cyrus beamed, a little extra energy in his step. Man , the thought of TJ really pepped him up, didn’t it. “How was your weekend?”

“Eh, been better, been worse,” Andi admitted, rocking back and forth on her heels, “Jonah and I broke up,” she added without hesitation.

Cyrus blinked a few times, unsure that what he heard was true. “Wait, like for real?” he mustered, mildly annoyed at himself for not being that supportive, “I mean, I’m sorry, Andi, that that happened,” he added for extra comfort, patting her shoulder.

Andi merely shrugged, opening up the locker next to Cyrus’ and putting her math books in it. “It’s fine, I guess,” she mumbled, taking out her sketchbook and charcoal, “He said he didn’t really like me like that anymore, but that he still values our friendship,” she explained, a hint of bitterness in her voice.

“Well, if there’s anything I can do for you, just say the word,” Cyrus assured her.

“What about you? Did you do anything fun this weekend? I didn’t really see you after the dance and, well, after the things on Instagram..” Andi trailed, fearing she was treading into dangerous territory.

“Oh, uh,” Cyrus stammered, feeling his cheeks heat up at the remembrance of the incident, “you saw that?” he squeaked, biting down harshly on his lower lip.

“Unfortunately,” Andi replied, shutting her locker softly, “I-I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay,” she said softly, squeezing Cyrus’ hand with her free one.

Cyrus nodded, grateful for her kindness. What had he done to deserve a friend like her? “I’m, like, eggshell fine,” he started, seeing the confusion on her face, “It’s a very fragile okay where like things are fine, but the slightest push will break that,” he explained. “Things were a little better after I...talked with TJ,” he half-lied, feeling his ears go red.

“Mhmm,” Andi muttered, unconvinced, “your red elf-ears are telling me otherwise,” she warned accusingly, pointing a finger to Cyrus’ ever-reddening ears. “Spill.”

Cyrus glanced around; he didn’t see TJ, but there were enough people that could be listening in. The last thing Cyrus wanted was more drama to be spread about him and TJ. “Not here, not right now. I’ll meet you in the art room in a few minutes, okay? I swear I’ll explain everything,” he promised, unlocking his locker.

“Fine,” Andi gave in, turning to walk away, “I’ll see you in a bit,” she said with a wave, heading off for the art room.

Cyrus watched her leave, and then released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. This TJ situation was really doing a number on him, and he didn’t know how much longer he could survive like an emotional time-bomb. He was about to start off for Andi, when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Underdog!” TJ called, causing Cyrus to wince in response. Please don’t let anyone stare , he begged silently, turning to greet TJ.

“Hey..TJ,” he added after a moment of hesitation. How was he supposed to react? A hug? Like just friends? Like nothing had happened? Too many questions for poor Cyrus.

“Hey, TJ? That’s all I get?” TJ joked, punching Cyrus’ arm playfully, “after the events of the weekend?” he added, wiggling his eyebrows.

Cyrus felt his cheeks flush, but the familiar feeling of trying to fight a smile didn’t come. He didn’t even feel butterflies; just nervous energy. “TJ, please,” Cyrus whimpered, looking around at all the students. Some were staring, others were pointing, a few were even taking pictures.

TJ glanced around at them, shaking his head. “Just ignore them, dude,” TJ encouraged, but to no avail. “Trust me. It’ll blow over,” he stated confidently.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Cyrus said slowly, choosing his words carefully, “you have so much confidence, you could fill a sports stadium with it. I, on the other hand, have a very frail confidence, the kind that could shatter with a weak blow,” he admitted, hugging his book to his chest.

TJ took a step back, a hurt expression replacing the carefree one he just sported. “Oh,” he muttered, a bit to coldly for Cyrus’ taste, “whatever,” he grumbled, his old-self creeping back into his attitude, “just..go play with your art-friend, Cyrus,” he said, exasperated as he turned to hurry to his class. Cyrus wanted to reach out and grab him, to tell him that he was sorry. To tell him that he really did like him, but that he wasn’t ready to be out at school. To tell him that he loved being around him. But the words died on the tip of his tongue, and he pivoted on his heel to make his way to the art room.

+

“C’mon, Cyrus, you’ve been staring at the blank canvas for almost fifteen minutes! Just paint something,” Andi pushed him, figuratively, “Just paint...something, anything. Preferably something that you like, but hey, who am I to judge,” she added with poise, diverting her attention to her own sketch of her shoes.

“Are those the ones that Walker made for you?” Cyrus asked, fully knowing the answer, but he would say anything to fill the silence. Grabbing a palette of watercolors, a cup of water, and a few brushes, he started to paint a vague outline of a landscape.

“Yeah, the colors mesh well together. Plus, acrylic paint is my prefered medium,” Andi explained, “I was gonna make it a black and white one, like out of charcoal, but it looks so much better like this,” she complimented herself, smoothly adding a touch of yellow.

“Yeah, looks really good,” Cyrus said monotonously, not even glancing at her piece, “a real showstopper.”

“Someone’s a little bitter,” Andi replied with a chuckle, “what’s going on? And you better tell me what’s up with you and TJ,” she warned with a point of her finger, smeared with green and blue paint.

“Nothing,” Cyrus lied, painting a few trees with dabs of green and yellow, “we just danced...twice,” he said, whispering the last part.

Andi nearly smeared dark blue down her piece as her jaw dropped, as well as her brush. “You what? ” she gasped, Cyrus trying to shush her, “you’re telling me that you, Cyrus Goodman, danced with TJ Kippen not once, but twice?” she squealed, an involuntary smile tugging at the outer corners of her lips.

“Say it a little louder, don’t think they heard you in Australia,” Cyrus grumbled, sliding down in his seat. “I’ve just been thinking about those dances for a while...and the kiss,” he muttered, instantly regretting his choice of words.

“ You kissed him? ” Andi all but shouted, causing Cyrus to clasp his hand over her mouth. After a few moments of squirming, she finally calmed down.

“So you kissed him,” she repeated calmly, the excitement building slowly, “Well that’s—oh, screw this, that’s awesome!” she exclaimed, the excitement getting the better of her. “But TJ is—TJ,” she reminded him.

“See, that’s the thing,” Cyrus started, now painting a few curves and chains, “TJ is different, at least around me. He’s vulnerable, kind, supportive, and, well, he’s easy on the eyes,” he admitted, blushing fervently.

Andi poked him in his arm a few times, repeating, “Cyrus likes TJ, Cyrus likes TJ.”

Cyrus rolled his eyes; thank goodness nobody else was in the art room. “Keep it up, Mack. You’re on thin ice,” he joked, finishing up the background of his painting.

“This is so exciting!” Andi remarked, reverting her attention to her painting, waiting for a reply. When she didn’t get one, she glanced back at Cyrus, deep in thought.

“Cyrus,” she started softly, swiveling her chair to face him, “you don’t seem...thrilled about this,” she noted.

“I can’t do this,” he muttered, nearly snapping the paintbrush in half, “I’m not ready to be out to the whole school,” he admitted, “TJ probably is, but he oozes confidence. I—don’t,” he remarked lamely. “He approached me today and I just, I told him I couldn’t be seen with him—like a couple,” he explained, tapping his feet softly against the floor.

“I know,” Andi started, before Cyrus cut her off.

“No, you don’t,” Cyrus insisted, a bit too harshly, “sorry. Just, if you’ve never had to come out it’s just—it’s like revealing your heart to someone, and they have the choice to either stab it or smile at it. That’s a crappy metaphor but, you get the idea. And it’s not a one off deal, like ‘did the thing, and it’s over’. It’s like a forever thing,” Cyrus explained.

Andi rolled her eyes playfully, tapping her fingers on the table. “This would probably be a good time to tell you that I’m pan,” she said with a giggle, earning a gasp from Cyrus. “Don’t worry about what you just said, I don’t take it personal. But you hit the nail on the head; that’s exactly how I feel,” she told him.

A few moments of silence went by that Cyrus couldn’t fill with words, so he focused on his painting, finally deciding how the rest would look. With the help of the paint, and of course Andi’s advice, he finished it up as grabbed a sharpie to sign it, as well as write a little quote.

“If I stare at it long enough, it’ll become ugly. Don’t let me look at it,” Cyrus complained, shoving it into a box and labeling it ‘TJ’.

“Ooh, something special for him?” Andi cooed, finishing up her own work and signing her name.

“More like an ‘I’m sorry’ gift,” Cyrus corrected, drumming his fingers on the box. “Andi?”

“Yeah?” she chirped, engrossed in her own work.

“Do you—do you think Buffy saw that thing—on Instagram?” he choked out, worried for the reply.

“Oh,” Andi muttered, placing her brushes down, “Cy, Uh, she kinda already saw the posts, and may or may not have been really upset.”

Upset. The word was all Cyrus could hear for a solid 30 seconds. “So—this thing between me and TJ, whatever it is, is basically over,” he stated, visibly crumpling up at the thought.

“What? Oh, no, that’s not what I meant!” Andi corrected, facepalming, “I meant that she was super upset with whoever posted it. She didn’t say anything about you and TJ,” she assured him.

Cyrus nodded; at least not all hope was lost. “I should get going. I still have 15 minutes till the next period, and I need to find TJ,” he decided, grabbing the box, and heading towards the door.

“Oh, and Cyrus?” Andi called out, causing him to turn around. “Go get ‘em,” she cheered, a dopey grin on her face. That gave Cyrus the extra boost of confidence to rush out the door with the box marked ‘TJ’. He knew where he’d find him; the swings.

“Come here often?” he tried, approaching TJ who was sitting still, his fingers digging into the chains.

“What do you want?” TJ sneered, making Cyrus audibly whimper. Great , TJ thought to himself, you’re scaring him .

“I just — I wanted to talk,” Cyrus assured him, placing the box upside down beside him.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” TJ huffed, crossing his arms. He really should have worn long sleeves; his bare arms were covered in goosebumps.

“Please just hear me out,” Cyrus begged, hearing no reply from TJ. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to get so defensive earlier. I—I like you, TJ,” he admitted, feeling the familiar wave of butterflies, “but—I’m just not ready to announce who I am to the world, because—what if the world doesn’t like me?” Cyrus whimpered, his gaze slowly shifting from TJ to his shoes as he spoke.

TJ felt his body soften, guilt flooding his body. “Cyrus,” he started, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have freaked out like that and took off,” he apologized, tentatively moving his swing closer to Cyrus. “And look, there are gonna be some haters out there, but there’s the thing, bottom line, end of the day. You and me don’t have time for that; you’re awesome, you’re great, and you have a lot to provide to the world,” TJ encouraged him, seeing Cyrus start to smile.

“You really mean that?” Cyrus squeaked, looking up at TJ. Happy tears were brimming at his eyes, threatening to fall.

“Every word...Underdog,” TJ added with a smile. And at that, Cyrus brought him in for a hug. He never realized how much he loved that nickname, and how he missed TJ saying it, even for just a few hours.

“Oh,” Cyrus remembered, pulling away and grabbing the box from the ground, handing it to TJ, “this was supposed to be an apology piece of art, but I guess we’ve made up. So, consider it an ‘I like you’ piece of art,” Cyrus fumbled for words, watching TJ open the box, his eyes growing.

“Cyrus,” he gasped, unable to form more words.

“Look, if you hate it that much you don’t have to take it, I just thought it might—“ he rambled, being cut off by TJ grabbing his hand.

“I. Love. It,” he stated clearly, his charming grin crossing his face. Taking it out of the box, he admired every bit of it. Cyrus had painted them on the swings, with their hands interlocked between the swings. The sun was starting to set, evident from the warm sky, and Cyrus was even wearing TJ’s sweatshirt. At the bottom, there was a little quote Cyrus wrote. It read:

“This feeling’s like no other”. Of course Cyrus would incorporate a quote from TJ’s favorite movie.

“Is it—okay?” Cyrus piped up, caught up in watching TJ’s expressions.

“Okay?” TJ squawked, “it’s amazing, Cyrus! This is going in my bedroom,” he announced, placing it back in the box. “I love it,” he assured Cyrus, ruffling his hair gently.

Cyrus let out some weird sound between a groan and a squeal, but tried not to let his embarrassment get to him as his cheeks burned a deep red. “I’d love to stay out here with you, but my next class is going to start soon,” he reminded him getting up to leave, but not before TJ grabbed his hand.

“Wait,” TJ started, getting up and placing the box between his arm and torso, “can we, uh, like, do you think we could hang out later?” he asked shyly, his voice rising a bit as he spoke.

Was TJ, dare Cyrus think, nervous? He shouldn’t be, considering he was older and relatively confident, but he seemed like it. “Yeah, I’d love to. Where should we go?”

“You know that park near the Greek restaurant? It’s really lovely, especially in the winter when there’s still snow on the branches, and all the birds are puffed up. Maybe we could meet there at 6 today?” TJ mused, the small smile on his face growing.

“It’s a date,” Cyrus stated, giving TJ’s hand one squeeze before heading off to class. Oh, gosh , had he really called it a date? The word was out of his mouth before he had time to think, and boy was he glad he couldn’t see TJ’s face right now. Rather, he was glad TJ couldn’t see his face; he probably looked like he was having an allergic reaction, he was so red. Hurriedly, he rushed through the doors, keeping his head down and burst into his history class, relieved that they were going to talk about something mundane and nothing that would make him think of...something he wasn’t going to think of. As the teacher shut the door and pulled out some markers for the board, Cyrus let his mind focus on the facts. Now was not the time to focus on feelings; that was for later.

Chapter Text

“Get’cha head in the game, get’cha head in the game,” sang from TJ’s phone alarm, TJ knocking it off his nightstand as he fumbled to turn off the noise. It was far too early for him to be getting up; 45 minutes earlier than he usually got up, to be exact. He’d made plans for the day with Cyrus, and he needed a little extra time to get ready, most of which would be spent in front of the mirror with a bottle of hair gel by his side. In the midst of his hair routine, he heard the door unlock, and laughter cascading into the house, and his heart skipped a beat; his parents were back. Dropping everything, he pounded down the stairs, the smile on his face growing as he saw the suitcases at the door.

“Mom!” he croaked, feeling tears brim at the edges of his eyes as he threw his arms around her. Even though TJ was almost taller than her, he still felt like a small child when he hugged his mom, a wave of nostalgia rushing over him.

“Hi, sweetie,” his mom whispered into his hair, chewing on her bottom lip as she took a look around the house. It looked like it had barely been inhabited in the past week.

“Where’s dad?” TJ asked as he pulled away, carefully adjusting his hair to where it was before. He did not have enough buffer time to mess it up and start over. “Mom?” he asked again, softer this time.

“TJ, honey,” his mom started, her voice fragile and meek, “your father and I are...not in a great place at the moment,” she decided, taking TJ’s hand and taking a seat on the couch with her son next to her. “It’s been like that for a while,” she admitted.

“All the noise,” TJ whimpered, his voice barely above that of a whisper, “it-how long has this been going on for?” he dared himself to ask, diverting his gaze to the shag carpet.

“About…about two years,” she admitted somberly, holding her breath to prevent herself from crying, “we--this trip to Vegas was supposed to try and bring us together, like old times,” she reminisced, weakly closing her eyes, “but all it did was drive us apart.”

TJ felt so small, and everything seemed to be getting bigger and bigger before his eyes. “Is this--is this final?” he squeaked, clinging to his mother like he was a toddler, “like are you two, you know,” he trailed, not permitting himself to say the words.

“It’s not…official,” she started slowly, tracing circles gently into TJ’s back, “your father’s rented out an apartment downtown, so you’ll still be able to see him, but I don’t think that he’ll be coming home anytime soon,” she murmured, feeling TJ crumple beneath her. He couldn’t say anything for a while, his tears steadily flowing.

“It’ll be okay, I promise,” she assured him, her confidence shaky, “I’m sorry we left without much of a heads up. I just-I couldn’t bear telling you why we were leaving,” she apologized, TJ slowly lifting his head. “But I’m here for you, TJ, and I always will be.”

“Mom, I can…tell you anything, right?” TJ whispered, not even noticing that his hands were shaking. His mom did, however, and immediately took hold of them.

“O-of course , TJ. Anything. Is something bothering you?” she worried, her tired eyes meeting his teary ones.

There was no turning back now for TJ. “Mom I-I’m gay,” he murmured, his eyes tearing away from her gaze. “But I’m still me, and nothing’s going to change,” he added.

TJ’s mom sucked in a sharp breath, before kneeling down and placing her hands on her son’s knees. “TJ, you are still you,” his mom assured him, “you can love whoever you want. I love you no matter what,” she added, on the verge of crying.
TJ collapsed onto her, crying into her shoulder. He’d missed having her around; yes, he enjoyed being able to have Cyrus, but having his mother was different, somehow. He didn’t even say anything, just cried for a while before snapping out of it.

“I need to fix my hair!” he shrieked, giving his mom a quick peck on the cheek before bolting up the stairs. He only had about 20 minutes left to finish up before he had to get to school. Messily, he tried to fix his hair, but it looked worse than it did on a daily basis. Huffing in frustration, he squirmed into a fresh, light pink shirt and unworn black slacks. At least his outfit wasn’t a total disaster this morning. Rushing down the stairs he took one look in the mirror to make sure everything was in check.

“Wow, someone looks fancy! Special occasion?” his mom asked, handing him a granola bar.

TJ felt his cheeks flush a deep red, clearing his throat to kill the silence that was about to fall. “Hm? Oh, no, not really, I mean. Just…do we have any flowers?” he asked nervously, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Mhm, in the backyard we--flowers?” her ears perked up, taking a few steps towards TJ. “What’s going on? Are you, dare I say, trying to impress someone?” she snickered, raising her brows. And with that, TJ spilled everything that had happened in the past week; how he went over to Cyrus for breakfast, how they’d watched High School Musical, the importance of the swings, their first dance, their second dance, and their first kiss.

“I really missed a lot,” his mom said bittersweetly, placing her hand on TJ’s shoulder, “this Cyrus kid seems like a really great person.”

“He is,” TJ replied confidently, walking into the backyard to grab some flowers. In winter, the only things that were in bloom were snowdrops, so that’s what he ended up with. It wasn’t as big or colorful as he imagined, but he hoped Cyrus would still like it. TJ went fishing through the closet, unable to find what else he needed.

“Mom, where did you put my ukulele?” he shouted, tossing balls and toys to the side.

“This one?” his mom answered, holding it up in her hand, “you left it in the drawer by the coffee table after that one fiasco,” she said with a giggle.

“Don’t remind me,” TJ groaned, grabbing the ukulele with a small smile as he shoved it in his backpack, putting the flowers in one of the side pockets. He was as ready as he’d ever be to face the day, but he still felt a little uneasy. Last time he tried to show his affection towards Cyrus in public it hadn’t gone particularly well. But at least he had a new piece of art above his bed, and he loved it.

“Bye mom,” TJ said hurriedly as he darted for the door, ready to go, but his mom grabbed his arm.

“Wait,” she interrupted, smoothing out TJ’s outfit, and smiling, “there. You look so handsome,” she complimented, opening the door for him.

“Thanks, mom,” he mumbled, giving her a quick hug, “love you,” he added as he walked to school. Probably should have worn a jacket , TJ thought to himself, the wind biting at his neck, but there was no time to turn back. He was already half skipping half walking to school, trying to make up for the time that he’d lost. After what felt like forever, he saw the swings and couldn’t help but smile. There were two girls sitting on them, giggling doubling over in laughter. That’s gay, TJ thought jokingly, shaking his head to clear the thought as he approached the entrance.

“Breathe,” he whispered to himself, rubbing his hands together to try and return some feeling into them. Scanning the halls, he didn’t see Cyrus, and felt his chest tighten; what is he wasn’t here? No, he had to be here.

“Kippen, looking sharp,” Tyler snickered, pushing his hair back, “are you looking for your boyfriend? ” he sneered, smirking.

TJ felt that familiar feeling of hot anger rising within him. “Back off, Tyler,” TJ hissed, starting to walk away.

“Colder,” Tyler called, causing TJ to whip around and narrow his eyes at him.

“What do you mean colder ?” TJ growled, taking a step towards Tyler, his hands balling up into fists.

Tyler shrugged, letting out a breath of a laugh. “He’s not in that general direction. Colder. Not there. Let me know when any of this gets through to your pea brain,” he retorted.

TJ felt like he was going to scream and cry, but he maintained his composure. “Where is he?” he demanded in a low voice.

“Heck if I know,” Tyler replied lamely, “I just know that he ran the other way earlier.”

“What did you do to him?” TJ hissed inching closer and closer to Tyler.

“I didn’t lay a finger on him,” Tyler supplied, his smirk only growing, “but there are other ways to break him. He’s like a piece of glass; fragile,” Tyler teased, a few chuckles leaving his mouth.

“Mark my words, you pathetic piece of garbage, I will be back for my revenge,” TJ sneered, turning the other corner angrily.

“Warmer!” he heard Tyler shout from down the hall, but he paid no attention to him; now all he had to do was find Cyrus.

“Cyrus?” TJ called, ignoring all the looks he was getting. First period was going to start soon, and he didn’t want to be late, but Cyrus was more important than school would ever be. He felt like he had looked everywhere; Cyrus wasn’t in the library, and he wasn’t at the swings, as he saw from the window. His heart rate picked up speed, anxiety taking over his body. Where was he? What had happened?

“You’re going to have an anxiety attack at this rate,” TJ whispered to himself, heading towards the bathroom. Splashing water on his face usually helped calm him down. Entering the bathroom with a slight squeak, he placed his bag down by the sink and turned on the water, splashing his face like he was in a face washing commercial. As he turned to grab his bag, he heard what he thought was whimpering coming from one of the stalls. Carefully, he placed his bag back on the ground and knocked on the stall door.

“Hello?” he asked, waiting for a reply from the inside.

“TJ?”

TJ’s body stiffened; that was definitely Cyrus inside the stall. Which mean that it was him whimpering, and probably crying. “Cyrus?”

“T-TJ, please just go. You’re going to be late for first period,” Cyrus squeaked from inside, sniffling.

“I’m not leaving, Underdog. I’ll wait here all day if that’s what it takes. Please, just, open the door,” TJ pleaded.

“I look pathetic,” Cyrus whimpered, his voice barely audible. His shaky hand went to unlock the stall, taking in an unsteady breath. Pushing it open, he saw TJ in front of him, dressed to the nines. Wow, Cyrus thought, his sadness disappearing for a split second.

TJ thought he was going to cry, looking at Cyrus; he looked miserable. “Cyrus,” TJ croaked, opening his arms to embrace him, feeling tears brim at his eyes.

Cyrus gave him a watery smile, taking a few steps to hug him. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” Cyrus lied, burying his head into TJ’s shirt, staining it with teardrops. Cyrus tried to repeat over and over that he was fine to convince himself that he was, but it wasn’t working.

“What did he do to you?” TJ murmured, defeated, “Tyler, I mean.”
“H-How did you--”

“He saw me this morning walking in,” TJ cut in, his nimble fingers wiping Cyrus’ tears away, “and I was trying to find you after he said that he saw you walking this way.”

“Oh,” Cyrus mumbled, sniffing a few times and coughing to clear his throat, “well h-he, he said that nobody would like a loser like m-me,” he trembled, his hands visibly shaking, “a-and that I-I don’t deserve you,” he added unsteadily, the tears flowing again.

“Cyrus,” TJ began, placing his hands on Cyrus’ shoulders, “you are not a loser. You are the furthest thing from a loser. And I’m lucky to have you in my life. Anybody would be. You’ve always been there for me,” TJ cooed, reaching for his bag and pulling out the ukulele.

“What the--you play that?” Cyrus giggled, wiping the tears from his face. Man, TJ was just one surprise after another.

“I, uh, I was going to do this, you know, out there, but considering the circumstances--”

“No,” Cyrus stopped him, grabbing his hand, “whatever you were going to do, you can do it out there. I have you, and I know that no matter what people say, we have each other,” he finished, looking up at TJ. Brown met blue, and that was all TJ needed to grab him and rush out the door. People turned heads, a few gasped, several laughed, but most of them were just confused.

“Uh, hey everyone, uh, I’m TJ, and I just-I wanted to show Cyrus how much I care about him,” he announced nervously feeling Cyrus squeeze his hand. TJ pulled out the ukulele and strummed a few chords as some of the students pulled their phones out.

“It’s hard to believe that I couldn’t see. You were always right beside me. Thought I was alone, with no one to hold, but you were always right beside me,” TJ sang, hearing people gasp in the crowd, with a few squeals sprinkled in here and there. But that didn’t matter; seeing the look of pure joy on Cyrus’ face was all he needed.

“This feeling’s like no other, I want you to know. I’ve never had someone that knows me like you do, the way you do. I’ve never had someone, as good for me as you, no one like you. So lonely before, I finally found, what I’ve been looking for,” he finished, strumming the chords a few more times before ending it with an arpeggio. A wave a applause and ‘woops’ rushed through the crowd as TJ put the ukulele down and picked the flowers out from his backpack.

“Cyrus,” he started shakily, his emotions on high, “I am completely and utterly crazy about you. So, if it wouldn’t be too much to ask,” he continued, taking a step towards him and extending the flowers, “will you…go out with me?”

Screams filled the crowd, some teachers popping their heads out of their classrooms to see what all the commotion was about. Cyrus thought he was hallucinating, or that he was going to faint; this couldn’t possibly be real. But when he reached for the flowers and felt that they were real, it finally hit him; TJ really did like him, like for real. So much, in fact, that he did this whole thing in front of the student body.

“Of course!” Cyrus shrieked, earning another round of applause from the crowd. Cyrus took a step forward and planted a kiss on TJ’s cheek, the applause roaring, save for a few boos from Tyler and his gang.

“Excuse me,” a teacher interrupted, approaching Tyler and his group of friends, “right down to the principal’s office, please. We do not tolerate that kind of behavior here,” she demanded, walking them away.

This was it; cloud nine. TJ felt like he was walking on air, Cyrus by his side. There had never been a day like this one.

“I’ll text you later about the date,” TJ whispered under the applause as the duo walked to class, smiling from ear to ear.

Chapter Text

TJ knocked lightly on Cyrus’ door, the cool January wind nipping at his skin. Maybe a date on a Saturday evening in the middle of the winter wasn’t the greatest , but TJ would be damned if he didn’t try. After a few moments, the door opened with a soft creak and Cyrus stood before him, dressed in a deep blue collared shirt with a pair of khaki pants.

“I-wow,” TJ exhaled, unable to close his mouth, “you look-wow,” he fumbled for words.

“You don’t look too shabby yourself,” Cyrus chimed in, his cheeks already warming up, “should we go?” he asked, extending his hand out.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” TJ replied, taking Cyrus’ hand and feeling that sense of warmness. No matter how many times they’d held hands, it never ceased to amaze TJ how Cyrus could make him feel; each time was just like the first.

“Wait, hold on, boys!” Cyrus’ mother called, rushing down the stairs with her phone in her hand, “I want to capture this moment. Cyrus’ first date!” she squealed, clicking on the camera app.

“ Mom ,” Cyrus groaned, feeling a hand on his shoulder, and softening, “make it quick.”

His mom took a few photos of Cyrus and TJ, her smile growing with each snapshot. After what felt like forever, Cyrus grabbed TJ’s hand, as well as a jacket, and exclaimed “we’re leaving!” while walking out the door. Luckily, his mom was there to capture that moment from the back.

“So, where are we going?” Cyrus asked once they were out of view, “somewhere sportsy? Please say no,”

“No, nothing like that,” TJ informed him, Cyrus sighing in relief, “we’re going somewhere…more romantic,” he selected his words, fighting a smile that was making its way onto his face.

“Tell me, please!” Cyrus pleaded, “the park? I’ve always thought park dates are adorable! Ooh, no! Maybe a carnival, so you can win me prizes with your gaming skills?” Cyrus tried, “No, wait!..Actually I have no more ideas.”

“None of those, and I don’t think you’ll ever guess,” TJ teased as they turned the corner to walk down a street full of restaurants.

“Oh food, thank goodness, I’m starving,” Cyrus murmured, eyeing the restaurants before TJ stopped in front of one with a glass door. “This one?”

“Yup,” TJ answered, holding the door open for Cyrus as they made their way to the reserved table in the back. But it was not just any table, no. TJ had made sure that there were candles lit, and a small bouquet of snowdrops on Cyrus’ napkin.

“TJ,” Cyrus gasped, the candlelight making his eyes sparkle, “I-this is breathtaking,” he stammered, TJ slipping his hand into Cyrus’.

“Kinda like you,” TJ complimented, leading Cyrus to the booth and slipping inside with him. They talked for a while, and when there wasn’t a waiter coming around, Cyrus tapped TJ on the shoulder.

“Isn’t a waiter supposed to come and take our order?” Cyrus asked, growing more and more impatient by the minute.

“Nope, it’s already been taken care of,” TJ beamed, glancing at Cyrus, who was not returning his smile.

“What? You don’t even know what I wanted to eat?” Cyrus pouted, crossing his arms as a man with plates approached them.

“Thank you,” TJ said to the man as he set the plates down. TJ took the chance to shift his attention to Cyrus, whose mouth was wide open.

“Pancakes?” Cyrus managed to squeak, his grip on TJ’s hand tightening.

“Thought I might bring it back to where it all started,” TJ remarked, handing the maple syrup to Cyrus, “I hope they’re alright. I made them, after all.”

“You made them? ” Cyrus gawked, his eyes growing with each word, “but how did you even-”

“I came by earlier and helped make them,” TJ shrugged, cutting his pancakes up into little triangles, “I thought it might be nice,”

“It’s perfect, Teej, really,” Cyrus breathed, pressing a short kiss to TJ’s cheek, “You’re so thoughtful,”

In the dim light, one could just make out that TJ’s cheeks were redder than the strawberries in the pancakes. The duo talked and laughed for what felt like forever before a lull fell over them.

“When did you know?” Cyrus blurted out, swallowing hard, “you know, that you, kinda liked me?”

TJ snorted, chuckling at the question. “You need some flattery, Underdog?” he challenged, leaning back against the booth, “but honestly? Since before I even got you that muffin. I sat behind you in math class and one day you turned around and asked ‘Do you have a pencil I could borrow?’ and I gave it to you and you said ‘Thanks’ and smiled and I just…I don’t know. I felt my heart start beating faster and faster. Anyways, when you returned the pencil, I kinda held it in my hand for a while, and when I got home, I placed it on my shelf along with my basketball trophy,” he explained.

Cyrus felt his eyes brim with tears, scooting closer to TJ, the scent of his mint shampoo stronger than ever. “That’s, like, the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard,” he squeaked, leaning his head against TJ’s shoulder.

“When did you know?” TJ returned the question, a soft smile dancing on his lips as he put his arm around Cyrus.

“Oh,” Cyrus muttered, frowning, “it’s-it’s nowhere near as good as yours but, I think it was when we were at the swings that one time,” he started, and TJ knew exactly which time he was referring to, “singing the swing song, the hug, and then coming out to each other…it all felt like it was fitting into place, I guess. It’s lame, I know,”

“It’s not lame, it’s perfect,” TJ assured him, pushing his brown locks back, “Nothing you say could ever be lame,”

“High School Musical is stupid,” Cyrus joked, keeping a straight face.

“You monster!” TJ fake gasped, the duo breaking into a fit of laughter, before TJ interjected with, “that’s not lame, that’s just a straight up lie.”

TJ left the money for the food on the table, and him and Cyrus walked home, the night air colder than expected. The streetlights were on and the crickets were chirping as they pulled up to TJ’s house.

“Can I ask you something?” TJ stated suddenly, the word boyfriend ringing in his ears, “Do you want to…sleep over?” he finished, slumping his shoulders. TJ had a record of not following through with his desired questions, and this time was no different.

“Love to,” Cyrus replied, pulling out his phone and texting his mom that he was staying over at TJ’s house, to which she replied with a smirking face and a heart.

“Ugh, moms,” Cyrus groaned, putting his phone in his pocket and taking TJ’s hand as they walked.

“Tell me about it,” TJ answered, leading Cyrus up the stairs to his house and unlocking the door with a gentle creak. “Mom?”

“In the kitchen!” a shrill voice rang throughout the house, and a woman appeared from a room on the left. “You must be Cyrus! It’s so great to finally meet you. I’d shake your hand but they’re covered in dough,” she explained.

“It’s nice to meet you too Mrs. Kippen,” Cyrus replied politely, smiling.

“Oh please, call me Cynthia,” she offered, “TJ has told me so much about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” Cyrus joked, earning a joke from TJ’s mom.

“Only great things,” she assured him, “Are you sleeping over tonight?”

“I said it would be okay,” TJ interjected, “and so did his mom,” he added, already dragging Cyrus up the stairs.

“Okay, well the pizza will be ready in a little bit, I’ll call you boys down when it’s ready,” his mom called up the stairs as she returned into the kitchen.

+

“Your mom’s really nice,” Cyrus complimented, kicking his shoes off and taking a seat on the edge of TJ’s bed.

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” TJ responded absentmindedly, rummaging through his clothes before throwing some at Cyrus. “Here, you can change into these. I’d imagine you don’t wanna stay in those clothes all night?”

“You’d be right,” Cyrus smiled, taking the shirt and looking it over. It had a picture of Troy Bolton on it, and the sweatpants that TJ gave him said ‘WILDCATS’ down the side. “A true High School Musical fan from the start,” Cyrus giggled, unbuttoning his shirt and swapping it out for the t-shirt, as well as slipping off his pants and exchanging them for sweatpants. TJ had already changed into a basketball shirt and sweats, so he climbed up on the bed and patted the spot next to him for Cyrus. The shorter boy scooted over and rested his head on TJ’s shoulder.

“What do you wanna watch?” TJ asked, grabbing the remote from the nightstand and turning on the TV.

“Do they have reruns of The Office?” Cyrus piped up, a giddy feeling overwhelming him, “I love that show,”

“Parks and Rec is far superior,” TJ countered, chuckling at Cyrus’ offended gasp, “and no, not tonight. Now they’re showing some movie,”

Cyrus sighed, crossing his arms. “Fine, I suppose we can watch Parks and Rec. But only if I get to pick the episode,” he demanded, reaching over for the remote.

“Not so fast. I’m not giving you all the power,” TJ insisted, “let’s watch Sister City,” he decided. This episode was probably TJ’s favorite; it always made him laugh. The best part of watching it with Cyrus was listening to him laugh so hard that he snorted.

“Aw, you laugh is adorable!” TJ cooed, Cyrus covering his face with his hands.

“Nooo! It’s embarrassing,” he insisted, TJ prying the smaller boy’s hands off of his face as the continued to watch. After about five episodes, TJ let Cyrus pick.

“Close your eyes,” Cyrus insisted, placing his hand over TJ’s eyes so he didn’t see the episode title. Clicking on it, he took his hand off of TJ’s face and rested his head on his shoulder, his arm slung on top of his boyfriend’s chest.

+

“I love this part,” TJ murmured into Cyrus’ hair, taking his boyfriend’s hand. Leslie and Ben were getting married, and they were exchanging their vows.

“Me too,” Cyrus replied, his eyes darting from TJ to the TV.

“I love you and I like you,” Leslie said to her now husband, as they leaned in for a kiss.

“I love you and I like you,” Cyrus repeated, his eyes flickering up to TJ.

“That line is adorable,” TJ whispered, holding Cyrus a little close and pecking his forehead.

“No, TJ,” Cyrus sighed, pausing the episode, earning an ‘aw, boo’ from TJ, “I love you and I like you,” he repeated, searching TJ’s eyes for some sort of reaction.

Confusion was what he found instead. TJ’s brows furrowed up and he stared at Cyrus for a moment before his jaw dropped and his eyes glittered.

“Wait, wait, wait. Did you just say that...you love me?” he squeaked, his lips curling into a small smile.

“Yeah, I-I do,” Cyrus sighed, relieved at his boyfriend’s smile, “I was thinking of the best way to tell you, and I thought this might work,”

TJ leaned and pressed their foreheads together, shutting his eyes. “I love you and I like you, too, Underdog,” TJ whispered, before pressing his lips to Cyrus’. When he pulled away, he let his lips linger a moment longer on Cyrus’, feeling the breath on his skin. Cyrus let his head rest on TJ’s chest, hearing his heartbeat and allowing that to lull him to sleep. TJ wanted to move a little, so he was more comfortable, but he didn’t dare wake Cyrus. It was like when a dog or cat falls asleep on you, and you can’t move because you’ll disturb them. Cyrus was like the pet, and TJ did not want to take a chance and wake him.

+

The next morning, Cyrus woke up before TJ, and found himself entangled in his arms. Man, TJ looked so adorable when he was sleeping; his mouth was slightly open and his hair looked like a mess. A cute mess, nonetheless. Cyrus gingerly brushed his fingers through TJ’s hair, and he swore he saw his lips twitch into a small smile.

“TJ,” Cyrus whispered, but TJ’s eyes remained closed, his chest rising and falling as he slept, “I kinda want to tell you something, but maybe it’s best if you don’t hear it,” he murmured. TJ was asleep, so now was probably a good time to say something.

“I-I know it sounds ridiculous, but I am so in love with you, it’s crazy,” he laughed breathily, “I fell in love with you the way you fall asleep; slowly and then all at once. I was gonna tell you when you were awake, but I was afraid I’d scare you off,” he admitted quietly, giving TJ a quick peck on his nose.

Scrunching up his face, TJ stretched his arms above his and allowed his eyes to flutter open, a giddy grin on his face. “Morning, Underdog. You been up for a while?” he asked, pushing his hair out of his face with a yawn.

“No, just a little bit,” he replied, lying back down on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Really? You must be pretty good with words then if you came up with that The Fault In Our Stars thing on a whim,” TJ teased, seeing Cyrus’ eyes go wide with horror.

“Oh my gosh, you heard that?” he panicked, “Look, I’m sorry if you’re weirded out and I totally understand if-”

“Woah, wait,” TJ cooed, sitting up a little and bringing Cyrus into his arms, “It literally took all my willpower to not smile or wake up when you said that. I...I wanted to say something like that too, but your way was way more poetic,” he complimented, kissing the top of his head.

“Cyrus?” TJ asked softly, placing his head on top of Cyrus’.

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever been in love?” TJ quoted, a soft smile dancing on his lips.

“I am. And I have been for a while,”

+++

(EPILOGUE)

At the end of the year, there was going to be a mini graduation for the eighth graders. It was going to be a bittersweet occasion for both Cyrus and TJ; after today, they would get the summer to hang out together, but then Cyrus wouldn’t see TJ everyday during school. Cyrus was dressed in a maroon shirt and black jeans; he had slicked his hair back a little and brought a bouquet of daisies; TJ’s favorite.

“You ready to go?” Buffy asked him, donning a baby blue blouse and black slacks.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Cyrus replied, the duo linking arms and walking to the graduation. Thank goodness it wasn’t raining, as the chairs were already set up outside near the playground. The stage was set, and the graduating students were sitting in their chairs, anxiously waiting to be transformed into high schoolers. Buffy and Cyrus took their seats a few rows back, and waved to Andi and her family, who sat on the opposite side. After a few minutes of chatter, Principal Metcalf walked onto the stage and tapped the microphone a few times.

“Good morning, everyone,” he greeted, and a sea of ‘good mornings’ rushed through the crowd, “Thank you all for being here, for the Jefferson Middle School 2018 eighth grade graduation!” he announced, earning a wild round of applause from the crowd. Cyrus was cupping his mouth and ‘whooping’, while Buffy just rolled her eyes, poking his side gently.

“I know we all want to get to the best part, so I promise I’ll be short,” the principal promised, “although I have only been the principal for a year here, I feel like I’ve really gotten to know the students. I’ve seen the way they interacted with one another. Our students are there in times of sadness, happiness, grief, and glee. They have seen each other fall, but they reached out their hands and helped each other up. Nothing makes me happier than being able to call this my job,” he continued, smiling at the crowd, “now, the eighth grade chose to elect someone to give a speech, and I am pleased to announce that this year’s speech will be given by TJ Kippen!”

Another wave of applause ripped through the crowd, as TJ walked up onto the stage, shaking the principal’s hand. Cyrus would have been clapping too if he wasn’t in shock.

“Thank you, Principal Metcalf,” TJ started, pulling some notecards out of his jacket pocket and placing them on the stand, “thank you all for coming today. It really means a lot to all of us,” he smiled, glancing at his class.

“Throughout my time in middle school, but especially eighth grade, I feel like I’ve discovered who I am. I think a lot of us started to explore that concept. It feels incredible to finally be able to point to something, and say ‘yes, that’s me’ loud and proud. But once you know, it’s time for the world to know,” TJ paused, taking a shaky breath. He spotted Cyrus in the crowd and breaking out into a huge smile.

“A movie once told me that announcing to the world who I am is a scary thing, because what if the world doesn’t like me?” TJ smiled, a few murmurs and squeals popping up in the crowd. “The thing is, what scientists consider the world, I don’t. My world is what I decide it is. For me, at least, my world is being surrounded by the people who love and accept me for me. It’s the little things; a muffin,” he laughed breathily, glancing at Cyrus, “a basketball,” glancing at his team, who was giving him thumbs up, “even a ukulele,” he chuckled, smiling at his mom in the audience, who was in tears, but smiling.

“The point is, our worlds are all different. It’s the people in our lives who really make or break it,” TJ continued, flipping to the next note card, “This year, I met someone who really changed my life and the way I look at the world. I was scared, at first, because opening up to someone is frightening,” he admitted, his eyes locking with Cyrus for a moment. “But this person...he really brought out the best in me. Whereas other people saw me as the mean basketball captain, he saw me as ‘not-so-scary-basketball-guy’,” TJ remarked, earning a laugh from the crowd.

“Is he talking about you?” Buffy asked excitedly, facing Cyrus.

“I-I think so,” Cyrus whispered, tears threatening to fall.

“He never failed to make me feel good about myself; to show me that I mattered and I was worth something, even when I was at my lowest. And somewhere along the way, I fell in love with him,” TJ spoke into the mic, earning gasps and coos from the crowd. “It wasn’t like in the movies,” he started, the audience chuckling, “it was...different. There wasn’t any big mushy romantic things; it wasn’t even when we danced that I knew I was head over heels for him. It was the little things; the day he taught me how to make pancakes, the drawing that he made for me that’s hanging in my room, and, perhaps most important, all the days that I saw him smile. No matter what, I knew that him smile would keep me going,” TJ croaked, clearly on the verge of tears, “I’m trying not to get too emotional, so bear with me,” he joked, the crowd sniffling and chuckling in response.

“To my classmates, I want to thank you, for being my friends. To my basketball team, thanks for always having your head in the game. To my mom,” TJ started, pausing for a moment to try and compose himself, “I love you more than words. Thank you for supporting me and always sacrificing things for my sake,” he choked out, a few tears, trickling down my face, “and to my boyfriend, Cyrus,” he began, clearing his throat as tens of people craned their neck to see Cyrus, openly weeping, “I think I owe you the biggest thank you of all. You have been my everything since the day we met, and I don’t think I can thank you enough, but I can try. I am so lucky to have you in my life and-” TJ paused, smiling through the tears, “I love you with all my heart, Underdog,” he finished, meeting Cyrus’ eyes. Through his blurred vision, he could just barely see Cyrus mouth ‘I love you too’, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Class of 2018 Jefferson Middle School, welcome to high school! We did it!” he cheered, wiping his remaining tears and walking off the stage, returning to his seat. The procession began, and row by row, students went up to grab their diplomas and take their seats again. After what seemed like forever, it was time for TJ’s row.

“Tyler Joseph Kippen!” Principal Metcalf announced, and Cyrus stood up, cheering as loudly as he could. TJ graciously accepted the diploma and the handshake, waving and blowing a kiss to Cyrus, who caught it and put it in his pocket. The remainder of the students received their diplomas, and took their seats.

“Congratulations, Jefferson Middle School Class of 2018!” he announced, earning another round of applause. As soon as they were free to roam about and get refreshments, TJ rushed to his mom.

“Honey, I’m so proud of you,” she gushed between tears, trying to wipe them away quickly.

“Mom, don’t cry, you’re gonna make me cry,” TJ teased, wiping away the tears that were inevitably falling.

“I think someone wants to congratulate you,” his mom pointed behind him, to where Cyrus was standing with his bouquet of flowers and a smile. “I’ll let you two be alone for a bit,” she whispered, walking away to talk to the other parents.

“Hey, Underdog,” TJ croaked, feeling like he was already going to break down. Cyrus ran towards him and handed him the flowers.

“I am so proud of you, Teej!” he cried, pulling him into a bone crushing hug, “I can’t believe you talked about me in your speech!” he exclaimed, wiping his tears.

“Did you like it?” TJ asked setting the flowers down on the chair to take Cyrus’s hands.

“I loved it,” Cyrus assured him, bringing himself up on his tippy toes to kiss TJ. This one might have been the best kiss yet, according to TJ.

“Okay, break it up, lovebirds,” Buffy interjected, chuckling as she walked up to them, “That was a nice speech,” she complimented, smiling.

“Thanks, it means a lot, coming from someone as smart as you,” TJ teased, the group breaking out into a fit of giggles.

“Can we get a picture together?” Cyrus asked giddily, fixing his hair a little.

“Of course! Hey mom!” TJ called, waving her over, “can you get a picture of me and Cyrus?” he asked, grabbing the bouquet of flowers from the seat and holding them, his free arm going around Cyrus.

“Okay, get ready!” his mom said cheerily, swiping to the camera app on her phone and positioning it properly. She snapped a few photos of them smiling, a few silly ones, and one where TJ has his head resting on top of Cyrus’.

“Can we do one more?” TJ asked, making sure that Cyrus was in front of him, “You’ll know when to snap the photo, mom, I trust you,” he assured her.

TJ turned his attention to Cyrus, standing in front of him as handsome as ever. “You are, quite possibly, the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” TJ murmured, taking a few steps towards his boyfriend, their bodies so close.

“Ditto,” Cyrus whispered before leaning in and bridging the gap between their lips; it was magical, everything that Cyrus had ever dreamed of.

Snap! went the camera as his mom took the photos. The polaroid printed out the photos, the two of them near identical; one for Cyrus, one for TJ.

“We keep our love in a photograph,” TJ whispered, grabbing Cyrus’ and writing ‘I love you’ on the back, Cyrus doing the same with TJ’s.

“I love you and I like you, Not-So-Scary-Basketball-Guy,” Cyrus whispered, TJ linking hands with his boyfriend.

“I love you and I like you too, Underdog,” he breathed, kissing the top of his head.

“You ready?” Cyrus asked, referring to whatever the future held.

“Nope,” TJ giggled, squeezing Cyrus’ hand, “let’s do this.”