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Chapter Text

The rules are simple: they only hit big chain stores and never the same one twice in a month.  Which is why Reggie has his parents’ minivan parked at the superstore two towns over, drumming his fingers nervously against the steering wheel as Willie debriefs them on the plan.

“Alright,” he says, casual as anything.  It’s like he was born for this.  “Luke, you’re on food.  I’m on toiletries.  And, Julie, you’re getting art supplies for the kids.  Anything else?”

“Painkillers for Flynn,” Julie adds.  “Her period’s coming up.”

Reggie can’t help the sympathetic noise that comes out of the back of his throat and, from the backseat, Luke hisses like someone’s hurt him.  In the past few years, it’s become commonplace to find the poor girl curled up in the middle of the floor, trying not to cry.  She can’t even be left alone most of the time, for fear that she might pass out and hit her head.  Reggie doesn’t know how she stands it.

Willie must agree, because his eyes widen just a bit and he says, “Oh, damn, yeah, I’m on it.  I’ll be sure to get the heavy-duty stuff.”  Then he turns to Reggie, giving his shoulder a squeeze.  “You got this, Mr. Getaway Driver?  Keep the engine running and be ready to pull up to the curb if it looks like we’re being chased.”

It’s the same strategy as always, said through a smile that’s way more cheerful than the situation probably calls for.  “You say that every time, but you guys are too good to get caught,” Reggie points out.  “It hasn’t happened even once.”

“Yeah, well, just in case this is the time our luck runs out,” Willie says and then he’s out of the car with a wink and a wave, heading for the store’s automatic doors like he belongs there.  Like he’s from some other part of town, sent to run errands by his parents.  Like he’s got pockets full of cash, not just lint and old gum wrappers. 

Luke waits until Willie disappears into the store to follow, then Julie does the same.  She tosses him a teasing “Eyes open, Reg,” before she slides the car door shut behind her, making him groan.

“That was one time!” Reggie protests to the quiet of the van and then he settles in to wait.

The waiting is always the worst part, Reggie’s entire body humming with anticipation and nervous energy.  He’s been delegated to getaway driver mostly through process of elimination, but he doesn’t mind it – they need Willie, Luke, and Julie to lift, Flynn to make the returns if they decide to go that route, and Alex to stay miles away from the whole thing so he doesn’t give himself an aneurysm.  Reggie’s opinion might change if they ever do end up in a chase, but, honestly, he isn’t too worried about that happening.  His friends are good at what they do and he’s glad to help in any way he can.

Luke is the first one back this time, happily climbing into the bench seat like his hoodie and backpack aren’t full of ill-gotten spoils.  He’s always a little amped up after a shopping spree, big smiles and high-pitched giggles, but this time he’s practically vibrating. 

“Look what I got!” he exclaims, leaning forward between the two front seats to drop something into Reggie’s lap.  It’s a chocolate bar, a little mangled from being clutched in his sweaty hand, but a lovely gesture, nonetheless.  “Picked that up just for you, sweetness!”  He smacks a loud kiss to Reggie’s cheek.

“Thanks, man,” Reggie laughs, feeling happy and warm and loved all the way down to his bones.  “God, who knew you were such a heavy spender?”

“I know, right, isn’t it sexy?”

“Who’s sexy?” Julie asks as she slides into the van next to Luke, dropping her oversized purse onto the floor between her feet. 

“Your boyfriend,” Reggie tells her.  “And also me.”

Her eyes sparkle with amusement.  “Can’t argue with that!”

When Willie returns, Reggie drives carefully past parking lot security, keeping his jitters to a minimum and his speed an even, unsuspicious fifteen.  Once they’ve turned the corner onto the main road and crossed through the big intersection, they’re officially home free.

The minivan erupts into a chorus of triumphant whoops. 

“Eat that, capitalism!” Willie crows, pulling pill bottles and soap and toothpaste out of his clothes and flopping them onto the floor between the front seats in a sizable pile.  As per usual, Reggie can’t tell where the hell he kept it all.  The dude’s a fucking magician or something.

“Look at all that!  That’s some rich kid shit,” Reggie jokes, reaching over to slap Willie on the thigh.  “You think they’d let us in at Rolling Meadows?”

Willie dissolves into laughter, hugging his knees to his chest.  “You walk up to the country club looking like that, all you’re gonna get is a boot up your ass.”

“Oh man, I hope it’s Italian!”

Julie and Luke never miss a chance to shit on the other half, so when they remain uncharacteristically quiet, Reggie’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror to check on them.  “Ugh!” he cries, wrinkling his nose, when he sees that they’re making out in the backseat, getting way too close to horizontal for his taste.  “Ease up, Bonnie and Clyde, some of us have to watch the road!”

Julie laughs, pulling away from Luke just long enough to say, “Oh sorry, Reg, are we distracting you?”

Reggie doesn’t have to watch the mirror to know that Luke is smirking like an asshole about the whole thing, letting out a ridiculous, overexaggerated moan that makes Willie threaten to leave them on the side of the road.  He’d never do it, of course, but their squawks of protest are hilarious and they do actually end up pulling back a little.  Not all the way, because they’re the most grossly in love people Reggie has ever known – and that’s saying something considering he knows Willie and Alex – but enough that Reggie doesn’t feel like a chaperone on some high school field trip anymore.

Back at the motel, they sort through their haul, dividing it up between the six families.  It’s not enough – it’s never enough – but it’s something.  Every little bit counts. 

Sheila doesn’t even raise an eyebrow when they traipse into the lobby with their arms full of contraband.  It’s hardly an abnormal happenstance – they’ve been going on their little shopping trips since they were Carlos’ age.  She may roll her eyes and huff and puff about you little delinquents are gonna get yourselves locked up one of these days, but the fact of the matter is their sticky fingers are nothing but a benefit to her.  Because tenants who save on essentials are tenants who have more money for rent.  The Sunset Motel is a fragile ecosystem, a delicate balance of intertwined lives, but it’s self-sustaining.  Not even grouchy managers would dare to mess with that.

Neither would morally upright parents, for that matter.  Mr. Molina and the Pattersons still go a bit green at the gills when they receive their cut, but in the end, they always end up taking it, Ray with more gentle gratitude than Mitch and Emily.  On the other hand, Willie’s sister, Flynn’s auntie, and the Mercers have no qualms about what they do to survive, even putting in orders on the whiteboard outside Willie’s room when they’ve run out of something.  

And then there’s Reggie’s parents who haven’t cared about anything since approximately 2005, including their only son.  If the motel is an ecosystem, they’re the bacteria.  Even Ray doesn’t like them and he likes everyone. 

When they fling open the door to Alex’s room, it’s loud and bustling as usual, full to the brim with little kids and Top 40 radio blaring from the crappy boombox on the dresser.  “Look what we brought you guys!” Julie announces, pulling crayons, markers, and a coloring book from her purse.  “It’s art time!”

The kids shriek in excitement and Julie quickly finds herself nearly trampled to death by seven little pairs of feet, babbling as they squeeze her around the waist in appreciation and then fight to get their hands on the supplies.  Reggie comes to her rescue, tearing pages out of the coloring book and making sure everyone gets one, setting them up along the bedside tables, the TV stand, and the counter by the sink.  They all dig into their art projects right away, except little Izzy who wraps her arms around Reggie’s leg and doesn’t let go, perching on his foot like a heavy shoe as he clomps around the carpet pretending not to notice she’s there.  She giggles into his knee.

“Damn, it hasn’t been this quiet in ages,” Flynn observes, watching the kids color with impressive enthusiasm.  “Good call on the coloring books.”

“That was all Wills,” Luke says, smacking Willie on the back.  “He’s a saint.”

Alex snorts.  “My boyfriend, the patron saint of illicit crayons.  I’m so fucking proud.”

“Also the patron saint of Midol,” Willie says, pulling the painkillers from his pocket and chucking them over to Flynn who snatches them out of the sky.  “For all your menstrual needs.”

Flynn’s face lights up.  “Oh god, Willie, thanks!  I thought I was fucked.”  She races over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

He ducks his head, his face going a pleased pink.  “You know we always wanna help you out.”

“So other than this little one turning into a koala,” Reggie says, shaking his foot just enough to make Izzy squeal, but not enough to actually make her fall off, “how’s it been going?”

“Let’s see.”  Alex starts ticking it off on his fingers.  “Jack sneezed in my face, Nova fell and bumped her head during Duck, Duck, Goose—”

“—but she was super brave and didn’t cry at all,” Flynn is sure to say.

“Yes, we were all very proud of her.  Quentin drew a picture on the mirror in soap but it was actually crazy good so we didn’t yell at him, Abby read a couple verses out of the hotel Bible all by herself—”

“—we made sure it was Jesus’ red words, so it was the good stuff.”

“Yeah, it was love your neighbor as yourself and all that.  Then Kimmy poked a hole in my window screen which wasn’t very nice, but she’s three so she doesn’t really know better.  Oh, and Ezra is napping in the bathroom, so if you gotta take a piss you’ll have to go to your own room.”  At long last, Alex pauses to take a breath.  “Yeah, that’s pretty much it.  A normal day in the life at Room 8 Daycare.”

“And Mrs. Nelson paid us in beer again, so if you want one, they’re in the fridge,” Flynn tells them, waving a hand across the room at the makeshift kitchen.  It’s nothing more than a minifridge with a hotplate on top, but it does the job.  It’s practically the Ritz compared to the lukewarm cooler they have in Reggie’s room. 

“Score!” Luke cries, launching himself over Alex’s bed in one leap and only stumbling a little bit once he lands.  He grabs one, then turns to Julie.  “You want one, baby?”

“Fuck the rest of us, I guess,” Alex says dryly, rolling his eyes.  “It’s not like me and Flynn have been working our asses off all day while you guys went for a drive.”

Now it’s Reggie’s turn to object, throwing his hands in the air in mostly put-upon annoyance.  “Went for a drive?  I’ll have you know, I could’ve been put in jail, Alexander!”

“And I wouldn’t even fucking bail you out!”

“Yeah, right!  You know you’d be the first one—”

“Guys!” Julie cries, putting a hand to the middle of each of their chests and pushing them apart.  “It’s a six-pack and there’s six of us.  We’ll just pass them out.”

“Boys, I swear,” Flynn mutters under her breath, which is fair enough, Reggie supposes.  She and Julie have put up with more than their fair share of male buffoonery over the years.

Crisis averted, they kick back on Alex’s bed and the dilapidated armchair, clinking their beers together and talking about everything and nothing as they keep an eye on the kids.  The coloring book gets smaller and smaller as the kids tear through it, but, hey, it’s not like it’s any money lost.  There’s always more where that came from. 

It’s hardly a normal way to spend a Saturday, surrounded by toddlers and elementary school kids, but Reggie doesn’t mind it.  The daycare profits go a long way toward paying rent and it gives the other families in the motel an opportunity to work without having to shell out criminal amounts of cash to the expensive preschools and rec centers uptown.  It’s all a part of the balance, the tightrope they all walk.  He’s happy to be something a little bit better than bacteria in their ecosystem. 

Besides, this is where his friends are – and wherever they are, that’s where Reggie wants to be, too.

By the time the sun goes down, only Flynn’s cousins haven’t been picked up.  “My auntie must’ve had to work late today,” Flynn says through a yawn.  “It’s fine, though, I’ll just take them back to our room and get them ready for bed.”

“You want some help?” Luke offers, because despite his occasional Julie Julie Julie tunnel vision, he’s actually a really good guy.  Reggie loves him a lot.

Flynn just smiles sleepily.  “You know I’ll never say no to that.”

“You got it.”

When they open the door to slip out into the hallway, a familiar sound rushes in through the crack, making Reggie sigh heavily.  “Do they ever take a night off?” he whines, way past being embarrassed about the angry words and loud crashes that explode from behind his family’s door and reverberate down the hallway.  Everyone in the motel knows about the Peters’ knock-down-drag-outs.  They’re the stuff of legend at this point.  “Like, doesn’t it get boring after a while?”

“You’d think,” Julie says, curling her arms around his waist to hug him close.  “But parents are stupid.  We know this.”

“Not yours.”

“That’s true.”  She pulls back to offer him a sympathetic smile.  “I’m sorry, Reg.”

He just shrugs.  “I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be.”

There are a lot of things none of them should have to be used to, and yet here they are.  That’s just how life goes.  You’re dealt your cards and you learn to play them as well as you can.  And if you’re lucky, you have amazing people right alongside you slamming down their shitty cards next to yours.  In that aspect, Reggie is incredibly fortunate.

Since Alex is the only one with his own room – something they tease him mercilessly for, calling him anything from a trust fund kid to an A-list celebrity until he’s red in the face – he’s often Reggie’s first choice on nights like tonight when walking into his own home feels like a death sentence.  But Alex and Willie have been reaching out for each other for the past hour, eyeing each other up like they can’t wait to pounce, and there’s no way Reggie is getting in the middle of that, thank you very much.

Before he can panic, Julie says, casually like it’s already been discussed, “You’re staying with me tonight, right?”

Reggie loves Julie, has always loved Julie, but at that moment he adores her so much he could kiss her.  So he does, bending down just a bit to press his lips to the middle of her forehead.  “Yeah,” he says decisively, no apprehension, no second-guessing.  “I am.”

“Cool.”

In the Molinas’ room, Carlos is already fast asleep on his air mattress and Ray is slumped over his ancient laptop, squinting at the screen and tapping away at the keys.  Reggie makes a mental note to find out his prescription so they can swipe him a new pair of reading glasses next time they go shopping.  When he looks up and sees that his daughter isn’t alone, there isn’t a trace of annoyance or surprise on his face.  He just breaks into a smile.

“Welcome, Reg,” he whispers into the stillness of the room, voice a gentle caress that makes Reggie’s insides quake.  Reggie could live a thousand years and he’d never deserve to be treated as well as Ray treats him.  “I’ll try and stay quiet so you can get some sleep.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mr. M.  You know I sleep like a bear.”

“And snore like one, too,” Julie teases, chucking him under the chin so he knows she doesn’t mean it.

When they’re both tucked up in Julie’s bed, side by side and just close enough to link their pinkies together, Ray switches the bedside lamp off, filling the room with darkness.  “Goodnight, mijos,” he murmurs from the other side of the room, sweet and almost enough to make Reggie cry.  If this is what shitty cards got him, Reggie has no idea how he’s supposed to complain.

-

Reggie has lived at the Sunset Motel his entire life.  He was born in Room 5 in the middle of a blizzard and sometimes he thinks he’ll die there, too.  The motel, for all its fragility, has a way of eating people alive, of sinking its teeth into their flesh and not letting go until they’ve resigned themselves to their fate.  The worst kids at school say that the Sunset Motel is where people go to perish and, as much as Reggie hates their pampered asses, they’re not exactly wrong.  Once you move in, you usually don’t leave.

Julie and Flynn have been there almost as long as Reggie, arriving within weeks of each other when they were both only infants.  They’ve always been a part of Reggie’s life, racing up and down the hallways together and driving Sheila insane with their giggling and cartwheeling and jumping on the lobby sofas.  Luke and Alex moved in during elementary school and quickly joined their little group, their antics increasing tenfold.  It was actually Luke’s idea to start their little five-finger enterprise after one too many times of hearing his mom cry about all the things they couldn’t afford.

“We don’t gotta get anything real expensive,” he’d explained with all the stubborn confidence of a twelve-year-old.  “Just the dumb stuff, like food and toothbrushes.  That stuff should be free, anyway.”

It was too good a point to argue and their paths had been set.  And then Willie and his sister moved in when Reggie was fourteen and their little circle was finally complete.  They’ve only had Willie in their lives for three years at this point, but Reggie can’t imagine being without him.  It was like he walked in and they all collectively went oh.  Oh, this is who we’ve been waiting for our entire lives.

So parents can scream and rich kids can talk shit, but this is where Reggie’s home is.  Where his family is.  And if he dies here, at least he’ll die among the best people on earth. 

But for now he eats breakfast among them, slumped over sleepily at the Molinas’ card table with a bowl of cereal.  Julie looks just as exhausted as he does, her curly hair sticking up every which way and her eyes half-lidded.  Carlos, on the other hand, is wide awake, pouring over a spiral notebook and humming to himself periodically before marking something down.  After a couple minutes of this, he slams his pencil down and announces, “We’re gonna be forty bucks short on rent this week.”

That wakes everyone up in a hurry.

“Wait, really?” Ray says, rushing over to look at Carlos’ notes as if they’re going to mean anything to him.  There’s a reason Carlos does the budgeting – neither Ray nor Julie have the mind for it.  They’re much more the creative types than the concrete, numbers types.  “How is that possible?”

“We’re still feeling that speeding ticket you got last month,” Carlos explains, tapping at his lip with the eraser of the pencil like a pre-teen businessman.  “We were able to absorb it when it happened, but now it’s coming back to bite us in the butt.”

Ray mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like fucking hell, rubbing at his temples.  “Alright, so what’re our options?”

“I’ve already taken money out of groceries and we’ve had the cable turned off for ages now, so unless we can find a way to get paid in the next two days…a whole lot of nothing.”  Carlos looks at his father apologetically.  “Sorry, Dad.”

“No, are you kidding me?  I’m sorry!” Ray exclaims, dropping his head into his hands.  “You kids deserve so much better than this.”

Julie is out of her seat like a flash, launching herself at her dad to fling her arms around him.  “Papi, you work so hard and you take care of us so well!” she tells him, voice with an edge to it like a plea.  Like she desperately needs him to understand.  It’s so raw, Reggie has to look away, staring down at his bowl, the cereal sitting like a rock in his stomach.  God, why would he eat their food?  “We’re happy, okay?  I’m proud of you.”  Her voice shakes when she adds, “Mom always was, too.”

As Ray hugs her tight, Reggie starts to feel like he’s intruding.  Just because they invite him in with open arms day after day and night after night, it doesn’t mean they want him to have a front seat to their family struggles.  But just when he’s contemplating racing from the room or at least hiding under the table, Ray pulls himself to his feet, shoulders squared with determination. 

“I’ll find something that’ll pay, just you watch,” he promises, jaw set and eyes resolute.  Then he walks around the table, dropping a kiss onto the top of their heads, one after another – Julie, Carlos, and then finally Reggie – and saying love you with each one before he grabs his keys and disappears out the door.  The show of affection instantly chases Reggie’s worries away.  He needs to chill the fuck out – he never needs to wonder whether the Molinas want him around.  They always do.

It’s Reggie and Luke’s day to run the daycare, so Reggie spends the next ten hours surrounded by loud kids and an even louder best friend.  They end up taking the kids to the overgrown field out back, running relay races with the older kids and having the little ones collect wildflowers for their parents.  This means, of course, that they then have to hole up in Alex’s bathroom and pick through everyone’s hair for ticks, but it’s still mostly a good day. 

And when Ray comes back dejected after hours of searching in vain for odd jobs, they slide the Molinas’ cut of the daycare proceeds under their door and race away on quiet feet.  They don’t normally divvy it up quite this early in the month, but no one minds.  There’s nothing more important than taking care of your own.

Chapter Text

There’s a reason Reggie doesn’t lift.  He’s the exact opposite of the stealing type – he’s too sweet, a bad liar, and has all the subtlety of a plane crash.  But he’s got a problem, is the thing, and despite loving his friends so much it hurts, he can’t send one of them out to solve this for him.  He just can’t.  It’s too embarrassing.

So here he is in the big retail store uptown, glaring at a wall of medication and trying to decide whether he’s brave enough.  Finally, after over a minute of deliberation, he snatches a bottle of pills from one of the shelves.  Before he can get it all the way into his pocket, however, a deep voice says from behind him, “Are you trying to steal that?”

Reggie whirls around in terror, heart pounding in his chest.  “N-No!” he stutters out, his face flooding with guilty heat.  “What are you talking about?”

The voice belongs to a dark-haired boy about Reggie’s age who holds his hands up in a calming gesture.  “Relax, dude, I ain’t gonna narc on you,” he says, an amused grin tugging at his lips.  “It’s just…you’re a little obvious.  It’s written all over your face.”  He puts a hand out.  “Here, give me it.”

The only thing Reggie wants to do less than get caught shoplifting is hand this boy – this very, very cute boy, his traitorous brain provides – the box of pills.  “No,” he squeaks again, hugging them close to his chest. 

The cute boy’s face crinkles with confusion.  “Okay?  Don’t you want them?”

“Yeah.”

“Then give them to me.  I’ll make sure no one sees.”

They stare each other down for a few seconds, the boy calm and collected while Reggie’s entire body burns hot, and then finally Reggie sighs, dropping the medicine into the boy’s open palm with more force than is probably necessary.  If the boy is surprised to see a box of laxatives, he doesn’t mention it, just raises an eyebrow and nods for Reggie to follow him.

“You never pocket anything in the medicine aisle,” the boy explains as he leads Reggie out of the pharmacy and into the big walkway.  “They’ve got extra cameras watching every corner.  So you’ve gotta wait until you’re out here.  See?”

There’s the slightest movement and suddenly the pills have disappeared like magic, making Reggie’s eyes go wide.  The guy is almost as good as Willie. 

“Now what?” Reggie whispers, trying to fight the instinct to look over his shoulder.  It feels like hundreds of eyes are watching them, angry and ready to ring the alarm bells. 

“Now we just walk and talk and leave the building.  Easy as all that.”

“Yeah, super fucking easy,” Reggie mutters, forcing his eyes up from the floor, knowing it’ll read as suspicious.  Rather than study his shoes, he studies the boy instead.  He looks like he jumped straight off some 90’s alt rock album cover, complete with ripped leather and long, dark hair.  He’s just a little bit taller than Reggie and the smirk that pulls across his face when he catches Reggie looking teeters on the edge of cocky without falling over it.  It makes Reggie blush and he quickly looks away.

The boy stays by his side until they’ve reached the back of the parking lot, then tosses Reggie the medication with a casual chin-lift.  “I hope that all works out for you,” he says, unable to bite back a teasing grin that makes Reggie want to dig his own grave and fling himself into it.  Reginald Peters (2003-2020): Death By Humiliation.

“Thanks,” he manages through the blood rushing in his ears.  “Yeah, I—thanks.”

“No worries.  Have a nice day or whatever.”

Reggie should really let him go.  Should really just go back to the motel, bury his face in his pillow, and never think about the cute boy who helped him steal fucking laxatives ever again, but Reggie’s never really known what’s good for him, so before the boy can get out of earshot, he quickly shouts, “Wait!  What’s your name?”

He half turns, the smirk back in full force.  “Bobby.  What’s yours?”

“Reggie.”

“Cool.  I’ll see you around, Reggie,” he says and then he’s gone, leaving Reggie torn between hope that he meant it and a burning desire to fall off the face of the earth.

It isn’t until Reggie is less than a block from home that he groans, burying his face in his hands as a horrible realization comes over him.  “I could’ve just said they were for Mom and Dad!” he cries, kicking at a weed growing from a crack in the sidewalk.  “Why am I so stupid?”

He’s really got to work on his lying skills before it gets him into trouble.

When Reggie lumbers into the lobby still cursing himself under his breath, he’s met with the familiar sound of Luke trying to work someone over.  The charm is turned up to one hundred percent and his voice is full of that subtle whine he uses to get what he wants, pleading with the manager, “Sheila.  Baby.  Light of my life.  It would really mean a lot to me if you’d just help me out here.”

Sheila just scowls at him.  “If I were forty years younger, that smile might actually get you somewhere, but unfortunately for you I’m a cranky old lady and you’re not getting another keycard for as long as you live.”

Luke’s face drops into a pout for a split second before he pastes on the megawatt smile with renewed strength.  “But I’m locked out!  My homework’s in there…don’t you care about my education?”  He makes a grab for Reggie, pulling him into his side so they can face down their unimpressed manager together.  Reggie just smiles at her, his grin a whole lot more genuine than Luke’s.  Despite her rough exterior, Reggie’s always liked Sheila pretty well.  “Don’t you care about the children?”

If one child was enough to annoy her, two children are enough to give her a migraine.  “I’ve issued more keycards to you than any other person that’s stayed in this motel in the past two decades.  I’m done.  You can fail for all I care.”

“But—but what if my parents don’t get home until late?”

“Go in through a window.”

“The screens don’t come out!”

“Then break the screen and pay me for it.  And don’t forget I charge Inconvenience Fees.”

“But—!”

“Give it up, Luke,” Reggie finally says, taking his friend by the shoulders and forcing him to walk away from the front desk.  “You can hang in my room until your parents get home, okay?  And we have the same Biology homework, so we can do it together.”

Luke makes a face.  “I’m not actually planning on doing any homework,” he says disdainfully, like the very thought offends him.  “I just want a damn keycard.”  Then he stops in the middle of the hallway, his eyes going huge.  “Wait, she meant me!”

Reggie blinks at him.  “What?”

“The Inconvenience Fee!  I’m the inconvenience!”

Reggie claps a hand over his mouth, trying to smother his laughter.  “Man, nothing gets past you, huh?”

“Shut up!”

Just as Luke feared, his parents end up staying out until all hours of the night doing God knows what, leaving him stranded in Reggie’s room until further notice.  They just bum around all evening, Reggie doing his homework while Luke plucks away at a crappy old guitar he’d found in someone’s trash last week, trying to coax it into tune.  They’d all tried to manage his expectations, told him not to get too upset if it was unsalvageable, but Luke Patterson always has a way of proving people wrong.  By the end of the night, he’s playing a shockingly in-tune rendition of a blink-182 song, softly singing along until he just can’t anymore.

They end up falling asleep nearly on top of each other in Reggie’s bed and don’t stir until his parents stumble in somewhere past midnight.  Reggie can smell the alcohol on them and it makes him whimper, body surging with fight-or-flight, but Luke’s arms are instantly around his waist and his lips are at his ear, making soothing shushing noises until he relaxes back down onto the bed. 

“They’ll pass out quick,” Luke promises, voice rough with sleep.  “I’ve got you.”

And they do, soon filling the motel room with soft snores that are more reassuring than annoying.  Reggie’s always liked his parents best when they’re asleep.

But he likes Luke best all the time, so he snuggles close and lets himself be held until sleep claims him again.

-

Two days ago, Reggie had never seen Bobby before in his life, so it figures he would run into him again while the memory of making a fool of himself in front of a cute boy is still fresh and painful.  And, because Reggie was cursed at birth to live out the most embarrassing version of his existence, Bobby instantly recognizes him, breaks into a smile, and greets him with, “Feeling better?”

Reggie groans, face immediately going red.  “Can we not bring that up, please?” he begs, voice squeakier than he would like.

Bobby gestures grandly at the giant drugstore Reggie just walked out of.  “So you’re not here to pull off a medical heist?”

“No, I was just dropping some film off for—”  Reggie flounders for a second, unsure of what to call Ray.  Because my friend is a little weird and my friend’s dad isn’t enough.  Finally, he just decides on, “—my dad.”

“Oh.  That’s cool.”

“Yeah.”

They look at each other awkwardly for a moment or two, then Reggie finds himself blurting out, “Do you wanna hang out or something?” at the same time as Bobby mutters, “Well, I should probably get going.”

Reggie takes a step back, feeling stupid and out of his element.  It’s been ages – well, his entire life, really – since he’s talked to anyone but the Sunset kids, and the stumbling, uncomfortable feeling is unfamiliar and prickly.  Back home, he can talk a mile a minute and never second-guess, even when his friends tease and roll their eyes and cuff him upside the head, but present him with one cute boy out in the real world and he’s a mess, apparently.  Great.

“Oh!” he says, feeling a little strangled.  “Oh, yeah, yeah, sorry!  Go—go ahead…that was weird anyway, wasn’t it?”

Bobby just waves Reggie’s turmoil away, something coming over his face that could almost be read as soft.  “Nah, it’s not weird.  Listen, I was about to go somewhere, if you wanna join me?”

“I don’t wanna, like, invite myself—”

“Dude,” Bobby says, graciously interrupting what was sure to be a truly humiliating frenzy of words.  Reggie’s mouth snaps shut.  “I invited you.  So you wanna come or not?”

Despite the wreckage of the past couple minutes, Reggie finds that he does.  “Yeah,” he says, nodding.  “Yeah, okay.”

They end up going the exact opposite direction of what Reggie expected, crossing over into the strange, uptown world of clean, intact sidewalks, busy bike lanes, and fancy houses that Reggie’s friends would gleefully rob blind.  It’s beautiful and tidy and above reproach, but Reggie can’t help but feel that it’s dead, too.  Because the motel and the neighborhood surrounding it might be in shambles, but the streets are full of kids shouting with laughter, the driveways are drawn all over in chalk, and there’s always someone within arm’s reach to hug or slap on the back or bum a beer off of.  Compared to that, uptown always seems so cold.  There’s a reason Reggie and his friends only venture up here when they need to fill their pockets.

“Where are we going?” Reggie asks after a while, nervously eyeing the quiet subdivision.  “One of these houses?”

“Behind them,” Bobby tells him, making Reggie breathe a sigh of relief.  “We’re almost there.”

He leads Reggie through an empty lot, still immaculately groomed despite being abandoned, and then to the tree line, shouldering his way into the thick foliage and gesturing for Reggie to follow.  He does, shivering a little when the temperature drops, most of the sunshine blocked by the cover of the pine trees overhead. 

“Where are we?” he wonders aloud.  “Are we still in town?”

“Yeah.  This is right on the edge of the Meadows’ property.”

That makes Reggie straighten up in surprise.  “Wait, the country club?  I’ve always wanted to go in there, just for a minute or two.  Not because I think it’d actually be cool, but just because I want to see if it’s like the movies.  You know, with rich ladies in fancy dresses and tiny little sandwiches and millions of golf clubs.”  Then he laughs.  “And dudes talking about their boats the same way they talk about women.  Kissing ‘em and stuff.”

It makes Bobby huff a laugh, pushing aside a wild blackberry bush so Reggie can walk past the same way a gentleman holds a door.  Reggie ducks his head in gratitude, a warm feeling coming over him.  “I’m pretty sure it’s exactly like that,” Bobby says, lips twitching up into a smile.  “Boat orgies every night.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.  Rich people are weird like that.”

“They got some nice scenery, though,” Bobby says and when he pulls Reggie by the elbow into a small clearing, Reggie can’t help but gasp.

A creek cuts through the heart of the forest, just narrow enough to cross but moving so swiftly it makes babbling noises as the water rushes over rocks and travels downstream.  A few yards down, there’s a dip in the creek bed, creating a tiny waterfall that bubbles cheerfully.  Leaves and pinecones take a dive over the edge before continuing on their journey out of Reggie’s line of sight.  It’s just about the prettiest thing Reggie has ever seen and he can’t believe it’s in their own godforsaken town.

“This is so cool!” he cries, taking a flying leap to land on the other side of the creek, stumbling a bit before he catches his balance.  “How’d you know about this place?”

“I didn’t,” Bobby says, copying his jump with the grace of a dancer.  Alex would love it.  “I just went exploring one day and happened to come across it.  Now I come here all the time.  It’s my favorite place.  It kinda feels like a different world, you know?  Like it’s in a book or something.”  Then he seems to snap out of it, his face going red as he backtracks.  “Uh, I mean, n-never mind.  You don’t wanna hear about all that.”

It is one of the funnier things Reggie has ever witnessed, this leather-clad embodiment of cool and aloof waxing eloquent about literature in the middle of a forest, but he kind of loves it.  Any discomfort he’d felt before is well and truly gone now.  Reggie may be a hopeless nerd, but it sort of seems like Bobby is, too.

So Reggie just smiles at him and asks, “What kind of story do you think would happen here?”

Bobby’s head snaps up from where he’d been bashfully looking at his feet, face written with surprise.  “Uh,” he says again, like he’s trying to get his brain to catch up.  Once it does, he settles on, “Nothing sad.  The sadness would happen around it, but once you got here, the sadness would stop.  Like magic.”

For some reason it makes Reggie’s breath catch in his throat, strikes him to the heart.  Because everyone needs a place like that.  For Reggie, it’s usually the Molinas’ or Alex’s room, for Bobby it’s this little oasis in the middle of the woods.  Reggie is glad Bobby found it.  So all he says is, “Yeah.  I think you’re right.”

Bobby grins.

They spend the rest of the afternoon kicking around in the creek and talking about whatever stupid thing they can think of.  Reggie turns into a motormouth when he gets comfortable, but Bobby doesn’t seem to mind it, humming thoughtfully while Reggie tells him about the electromagnetic properties of spiderwebs and laughing at his stories about the Sunset kids.  It’s as he’s recounting the time Willie went sledding off the roof and broke his wrist that Bobby asks, “So, do you live with your friends, then?”

There are many people that have tried to make Reggie feel ashamed of his home over the years – the kids at school, adults who won’t look directly at them, and even teachers who say he and his friends need “special care” – but none of them have ever succeeded.  So it isn’t shame that keeps Reggie from telling Bobby about the motel, it’s just caution.  You never know who’s going to be a dick. 

“Kind of,” he says, avoiding the whole issue.  “We live in the same apartment building.”

Something like wistfulness falls over Bobby’s face.  “That must be nice,” he says quietly.  “My dad is gone a lot, so it’s just me and my sister.  The house feels so empty sometimes.”

Reggie makes a sympathetic face.  He can’t imagine not being surrounded by people.  “That sucks.  What about school?  I haven’t seen you at ours…do you go to the Academy in the city?”

“I’m homeschooled.  Me and Carrie have a tutor, but mostly we just teach ourselves.  Sometimes I wish I could go to the public school, but my dad won’t let me.”

And that’s when Reggie realizes that Bobby is lonely.  Like, really, really lonely.  Lonely enough to bring the first awkward idiot that showed a speck of interest to his favorite place in the whole world.  He doesn’t even know Reggie, but he let him in immediately.  It makes Reggie a strange mixture of sad and exhilarated.

“You’re not missing out,” he promises.  “Our school is a breeding ground for the worst kind of assholes.”  Then, because there’s something going warm and fluttery in the pit of Reggie’s stomach, something that never wants Bobby to ever be lonely again, he adds, “How about I give you my number?  And that way when you’re bored in your empty house, you can call me up and I’ll talk your ear off until you wish you were alone.”

Bobby looks at him in amazement, like he can’t believe the offer.  “Yeah, I—I’d like that.”

They swap phones, put their numbers in, and then both go a little pink in the face as they grin at each other.  Reggie already knew Bobby was cute, had noticed it even through the rush of embarrassment the first time he met him, but now, backlit by the sunrays streaming in through the pine trees and the slightest breeze ruffling his dark hair, Reggie realizes that he’s beautiful, too.  Beautiful like warm days and Christmas lights and the waves of the ocean.  God, Reggie hopes he calls.

When Bobby leads Reggie from the clearing, letting the underbrush swing back into place behind them, Reggie can’t help but ask, “Aren’t you afraid the sadness will come back?  Once you leave?”

But Bobby only smiles, not a trace of worry in him.  “Not today.”

Chapter Text

When Reggie and his friends file away from the lunch line, trays full of the mushy fruit and dry sandwiches that pass for their school’s free lunch program, two boys are waiting for them at their table. 

“Oh, great,” Flynn mutters, her shoulders going rigid.  “These guys.”

Their lunch table is completely trashed.  The bench seats are tagged with swirls of spray paint, the floor is covered with empty food wrappers, and, most incriminatingly, the tabletop has been carved into with a pocketknife, boasting in all-caps SUNSET FOR LIFE.  And the two boys, Dan and Nathan, are grinning evilly like they’ve just pulled off the world’s greatest prank.

“I know you guys can’t help yourselves,” Dan says, sneering mouth almost begging to be punched, “but maybe don’t go with something so obvious next time?”

“You practically filled out the dean’s slips for them,” Nathan laughs, eyes lit up with the kind of mirth only bullies can manage.  He’s always gotten off on messing with them, like some kind of fucking weirdo.  “What’s next?  Putting yourselves in the back of a squad car?  That’s where you’re all going to end up eventually, you know.”

Julie and Luke’s lunch trays are on the floor in an instant, Julie lunging for Dan as Luke lunges for Nathan, twin smokestacks on fire with rage.  They’ve always been like that, taking every invitation to explode, so Reggie and the others are ready for it, grabbing them around the waists before they can make contact.  The last thing the Sunset kids need is a couple of rich boys running to Daddy because they got what they deserved. 

Alex is able to control Julie well enough on his own, but it takes Reggie, Willie, and Flynn to hold Luke back.  “You think you’re so fucking above it all,” Luke snarls at the boys, straining against the hands trying to hold him in place.  “But you’re nothing!  You don’t mean anything to anyone!”

“People only keep you around because you buy them shit,” Julie spits, voice dripping with venom.  If Reggie weren’t about to lose his hold on Luke’s shoulders, he’d spare a second to appreciate how well Julie and Luke bounce off each other at times like these.  The couple that screams at pricks together, sticks together…or however the saying goes.

Dan rolls his eyes with the confidence of someone who’s never taken a fist to the face.  “Yeah, keep crying about it.  You’re still getting suspended.”

“Hopefully for a long ass time,” Nathan adds.  “It’d be nice to get some peace and quiet around here.”

Luckily, they leave after that, because Luke is getting closer and closer to busting out of his makeshift straitjacket and, next to them, Julie is so overcome with anger she’s shaking from head to toe. 

“You good?” Willie demands once the bullies have disappeared around the corner, giving Luke a shake.  “If we let go, are you gonna behave?”

Luke grits his teeth.  “Yeah.”

“They aren’t worth it,” Flynn tells him.  “You know that.”

“I know.  I just get so fucking mad.”

“They’ll get what they have coming one of these days,” Reggie says, crouching to salvage Luke and Julie’s lunches from the floor.  Fortunately, everything is covered in plastic wrap.  “It just can’t be from us.”

Across the way, Alex’s hold on Julie has turned into a hug, his chin resting on her shoulder from behind as he whispers into her ear.  Little by little the angry set of her body softens until she’s leaning back against him, sweet and kind and everything Reggie’s always loved about her. 

“Alright, show’s over,” Willie says loud enough for the throng of gawking kids to hear, making them quickly turn away and go back to their lunches, embarrassed at being caught out.  Reggie feels a bit like a caged animal at the zoo. 

“Nosy fuckers,” he mutters under his breath.  Luke snorts a laugh.

“If we were going to risk punishment to carve something into school property, it wouldn’t be something as lame as that,” Julie comments off-handedly as they leave their lunch table behind and head for the courtyard instead.  “SUNSET FOR LIFE?  Really?”

“Yeah, we’d at least tack MOTHERFUCKER onto the end,” Flynn says, shaking her head.  “The creativity at this school is dire.”

They settle down under a tree to eat, Alex spreading his jacket in the dirt so Willie has a clean place to sit, because he’s disgustingly sweet like that.  Sometimes watching them together makes Reggie’s heart ache inside his chest.  He doesn’t often feel like he’s missing out – god, how can he when he has the five best people within reach at all times? – but on occasion he wishes he could have something like Alex and Willie do.  Or like Julie and Luke do.  Reggie isn’t like Flynn, who has declared on several occasions that she’d rather die than have a girlfriend.  He thinks he might like having a girlfriend someday.  Or a boyfriend.

His thoughts flit to Bobby just for a second, to dark hair lit up by the sunlight, and Reggie instantly goes red, looking around guiltily like his friends can read his thoughts.  He needs to chill the fuck out – he doesn’t even really know the guy.

Thankfully, Alex breaks into his thoughts with a cheerful, “As far as things go, a fucked up lunch table isn’t all that bad.  Remember that time they stole my gym clothes and made me run out into the hallway in my underwear?”

“And then you got detention for it,” Luke reminisces.  “Standing right there in your tighty-whities in front of everyone.  Red all the way down to your bellybutton.”

Alex squawks in annoyance.  “They were not tighty-whities!”  He turns to his boyfriend.  “They weren’t!”

“Of course, dear,” Willie teases him, patting him on the shoulder.  “Whatever you say.”

Alex crosses his arms over his chest, pouting.  “I say they weren’t!  And also I hate all of you.”

“Or how about that time some of the girls invited me and Jules to a party?” Flynn says, unbothered by Alex’s undergarment-related breakdown.  “But when we got there, it was the dean’s house and he sent out a mass email the next day about respecting boundaries.”

Julie giggles, hiding it behind her hand.  “I can’t believe we fell for that!  Why would we believe them?"

“Because we were thirteen and sick of hanging out with boys all the time.”

“Oh yeah!”

“I’m glad you guys are smarter now,” Reggie says smugly.  “You’re not gonna find better company than us.”

“Oh, we’re still sick of you,” Flynn says, syrupy sweet.  “We’ve just resigned ourselves.”

Reggie doesn’t believe it for a second, especially not when she reaches over to tap him on the tip of the nose, her dark eyes shining with a smile.  He’s home to her, just like she’s home to him.  The way they’re all home to each other.  If they get in trouble, they get in trouble together.

“So what do you think?  Detention or suspension?  Or just a fine?” Willie muses as he draws swirls and curls in the dirt with the tip of his finger.  “Because those assholes might be idiots, but they’re right about one thing: we’re definitely taking the fall.”

“I hope we get expelled,” Luke says hopefully.  “Then I can drop out without my parents murdering me.”

“We’ll murder you,” Alex says, leveling him with an unimpressed glare.  “You’re graduating with the rest of us and that’s final, Luke.”

“Okay, Dad.”

“It’s definitely gonna be a fine,” Julie decides, ignoring them.  “We might or might not get suspended, too, but we’re one-hundred-percent gonna have to replace it.”

They fall into a subdued silence at that, thinking of budgets and cutting corners and empty wallets.  Reggie sighs.  “Sunset for life, motherfucker,” he says and his friends all hum in agreement.

-

They don’t get suspended.  They don’t even get called down to the dean’s office, a stroke of luck none of them ever expected.  It makes them the same kind of giddy that pulling in a really good haul from a store does, walking on air like they’ve escaped certain death. 

Reggie is so relieved, so bright and cheerful and happy, that he takes his phone out and texts Bobby.  It’s only been a few days since they hung out at the creek together and Reggie had technically told Bobby to call him, but after a nice string of good things, he thinks he can risk it.  The universe is being kind for once and Reggie wants to see the cute boy again, so sue him.

I saw your special place, do you wanna see mine now?? he sends before he can second guess it.

The answer comes within a few minutes.  Did you really just say “I’ll show you mine, you show me yours”?

Reggie goes red to his hairline, flinging himself onto his bed.  “Fuck,” he whines, punching his pillow a couple times.  “Why am I like this?”

He must’ve taken too long to answer, because another text comes in from Bobby: Sorry, that was totally a joke dude I’m really bad at talking to people.  Yeah, I’d love to

Reggie laughs helplessly, a little lightheaded from the emotional whiplash.  Maybe Flynn was right about the significant other thing – he does feel vaguely like he’s dying.  But apparently he hasn’t managed to fuck it up just yet, so he answers, Okay, meet me at the dollar store in a half hour?

I’ll be there

He must be grinning at his phone like a fool, because Julie hoots and hollers at him when he passes through the lobby on his way out.  “Ohh, are you going to meet a girl?” she taunts, wiggling her eyebrows up and down.  She’s lounging on one of the couches with a wrinkled magazine lying open on her chest.  “Or a boy?  Or one of each?  Oh, Reg, is it an entire harem?”

The comment makes Sheila harumph from behind the front desk.  Reggie, for his part, just rolls his eyes.  “A boy.”

Julie sits up in excitement.  “Wait, really?  I was mostly kidding.  Do I know him?”

“No, I met him in town last week.”  Reggie scuffs the toe of his shoe against the carpet, feeling weirdly shy for some reason.  This is the first time he’s ever ventured outside of their circle.  “He seems cool.”

Julie smiles softly at him like she gets it.  “That’s awesome, Reggie.  You look really nice.”

Reggie looks down at his best jeans and least faded flannel, smoothing nervous hands over the fabric.  “I tried.  We’re not doing anything fancy, anyway – we’re just hanging out.”

“Well, you’re going to knock him dead, don’t you worry.”

“Hopefully not literally,” Reggie jokes, quickly pulling her into a hug.  “If I’m not back by dark, assume I’m on the run.”

She hugs him back.  “You’re gonna do great.  Have fun, alright?”

Reggie tosses her a dumb little salute and then sets out on foot, begging the universe to let the positive streak continue for at least one more night.

Bobby is waiting for him out front of the dollar store, which is a good sign. 

“Hey,” Reggie greets him, waving as he rushes over.  “I’m glad you came!  I was kinda worried it might be weird.”

Bobby shakes his head.  “Nah.  I actually thought about calling you a couple times, but I—”  He trails off, looking a little embarrassed.  “I didn’t know if that was a real offer.”

“Definitely a real offer,” Reggie says firmly.  “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

That look of amazement settles over Bobby’s face again, making Reggie’s cheeks go warm.  “Good to know.”  Then he clears his throat.  “So where are we going?”

“You’ll see.  The route is nowhere near as scenic as yours, but the destination is pretty cool.”  Throwing caution to the wind, Reggie holds a hand out to Bobby, waiting to see if he’ll take it.  “Follow me.”

Bobby does take his hand, making Reggie’s heart soar.  And then they’re off, cutting through the side streets and alleys on Reggie’s side of town, dodging bikers on the gravel shoulders and kicking a little kid’s soccer ball back to her at one point.  Once the houses thin out, everything is overgrown, just like the field behind the motel where they take the kids on nice days.  This area has way more trees, though, obscuring anything that might be hidden inside.  It’s not a full-on forest like at Rolling Meadows, but it’s thick enough that you can’t see the abandoned building until you’re right in front of it.

“Ta-dah!” Reggie cries, spreading his arms wide.  “The world’s coolest clubhouse.”

It’s an old outbuilding for a farm that’s long since been deserted, standing two stories high and covered in peeling, faded white paint.  There’s a No Trespassing sign next to it that’s been spray-painted over with a big, bold I DO WHAT I WANT, courtesy of Luke.  When Bobby sees it, he laughs.

“It’s always something illegal with you, huh?”

Reggie can’t help it, he tosses him a wicked grin.  “If there weren’t so many dumb laws, I wouldn’t have to break them all the time.”

“Fair enough.  You gonna show me around or what?”

Reggie and his friends had discovered the outbuilding when they were in middle school and quickly claimed it as theirs.  This was back before Willie, back before the daycare, back before they were expected to help pay the bills.  Their days were full of running wild and getting into trouble and, if they were lucky, getting back out of it again.  The clubhouse was always a nice place to go when they wanted to get away from parents and homework and grouchy motel managers that threatened to kick them out like she’d ever go through with it.  Now that they’re older, it’s rare that they ever get out here and even rarer that it’s all six of them.

They’ve made plenty of improvements over the years, which is what Reggie shows Bobby now: the carpet they put down in the middle of the floor, the watercolors they used to paint the windows with designs and messages, the shitty wooden shelves they found at the curb and set up against the back wall.  Some of their old trinkets are still there, stupid, worthless little things that kids collect like treasure.  But nothing is as cool as the loft.

“The good stuff is up here,” Reggie tells Bobby, jumping to grab the bottom rung of the retractable ladder and stepping back as it comes crashing into place.  “But only step on the rungs I do or you’re gonna fall.”

“Are you sure any of them will hold?” Bobby asks, squinting at the ladder and then up at the ceiling overhead.  “Is the loft even gonna hold?  It looks a little…crumbly.”   

Reggie laughs.  “It’s okay, you can say crappy.  And I’ll be honest, I haven’t been up here in months, so I’m not totally sure.”  He shrugs.  “Guess we’ll find out, right?”

“Right,” Bobby says, not sounding anywhere near as confident as Reggie, but when Reggie makes his way up the ladder, Bobby follows without hesitation.

When Reggie’s head pops through the hole in the floor, he’s met with a rainbow of colors, beautiful and dazzling and just as exciting today as the hundreds of times Reggie has been up here before.  “We now call this pride meeting to order,” Reggie whispers in place of Alex, laughing to himself.  “Gays, please take a seat.”

When Bobby comes up through the floor, his eyes go huge and an awed “oh my god!” comes tumbling out of his mouth.  He laughs like he just can’t help it, hurrying up the last rungs until he’s standing among the strings of colorful glass, broken mirrors, and fake crystals.  The colors swirl around him like something out of a music video.  “This is awesome!  You put all these up?”  He reaches up to tap at one of the strings, sending it swinging.  The fragmented lights dance across the walls and across his face. 

“Yeah!  Well, me and my friends did.  This is our place.”  Avoiding one of the more shabby patches of floor, Reggie sits down with his back to one of the support beams.  Bobby sits against the one across from him, still gazing up at the rainbows.  “We found it together.”

Bobby looks thoughtful.  “You do everything with your friends, don’t you?”

Reggie pulls his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them.  “Yeah, I guess.  They’ve just always been there, you know?  Our entire lives are all tangled up with each other and you can’t really separate us without everything falling apart.  It’s good, though – I like it like that.  They’re the best people I know.”  Then he snaps his mouth shut, embarrassed.  “Ah, sorry, you’re not here to talk about people you don’t even know.  I’ll shut up now.”

But Bobby rushes to reassure him, “Dude, seriously, it’s fine.  I’m just happy to have someone to talk to.”  He winces.  “Which, now that I think about it, isn’t a cool thing to say at all.”

Reggie is unfazed – uncool he can deal with.  It’s cool that usually gives him trouble.  “Then I’m not cool either, because I really want you to talk to me.  Tell me—tell me about your sister!  What’s she like?”

Some of the uncomfortable rigidity leaves Bobby’s body when he realizes Reggie isn’t going to make fun of him.  “Well, she’s blonde, loud, and better than me in pretty much every imaginable way,” Bobby says, but not like he’s being self-deprecating, more like he’s just reporting facts.  “Seriously, if I get an A on something, she gets an A-plus.  If I run a 5k, she runs a half-marathon.  I learned to play guitar, so she picked up piano, violin, and flute in a matter of months.”

That piques Reggie’s interest.  “You play guitar?”

“Yeah.  You?”

“My friend, Luke, does,” Reggie says, though he’s not entirely sure the hunk of wood he messes around on could really be considered a guitar.  “I’ve always wanted to play bass, but I’ve never been able to find one to practice on.  And my other friend, Julie, writes poems that she and Luke put to music sometimes.”

“Sounds like you’ve got your own little apartment band.”

Reggie laughs.  “Yeah, we’ll put Alex on the drums and then bam!  It’ll be the big times.”

“Well, I hope you can get ahold of that bass someday,” Bobby tells him, sincere and sweeter than Reggie can handle.  He has to duck his head.  “Music has a way of fixing things.”  He gets a faraway look in his eye.  “My dad taught me that.  But that was right before he fucked off on another business trip and left me and Carrie to fend for ourselves, so maybe he was full of shit.  He’ll say anything to make us stop begging him to stay.  Which is fair enough, because it worked after a while.”

Once his words run out, Reggie and Bobby look at each other with matching expressions of horror – Reggie, because Bobby deserves better than to be treated like that, and Bobby, because he’s said too much.  But Reggie jumps in before Bobby can withdraw, blurting out, “Parents fucking suck, man.  They have one job and they mess it up every single time.”

Bobby’s smile is tiny and bitter.  “Tell me about it.  Yours too?”

Reggie nods.  “Mom’s a bitch and Dad’s a bastard.  The classic love story.”

“And that’s the photographer?”

Reggie is confused for a few seconds before he remembers their exchange at the drugstore.  “No, that’s actually a different guy,” he admits, face going hot.  He feels kind of stupid about it now, walking around claiming someone else’s dad for himself, but he’s not sure there’s a better word for what Ray is to him.  “He takes care of me when my parents don’t, though, so I think he probably deserves the title.”  Reggie laughs a little.  “I’m not sure he wants it, but he deserves it all the same.”

“I bet he’s happy to,” Bobby says quietly.  Then his face goes red and he looks away, up toward the strings of glass.  “Being around you isn’t exactly a hardship.”

Reggie can’t hold back the gigantic, beaming smile that pulls across his face, his heart fluttering in his chest.  “Is that right?”

“Shut up, I’m not saying it again,” Bobby mutters, dark tone belied by the amusement in his eyes.  He’s still avoiding Reggie’s gaze.

Reggie had his first kiss in this very room, quickly followed up by his second.  It was when he was in eighth grade, huddled together with Luke and Alex and trembling as he admitted that he was pretty sure he liked boys just as much as he liked girls.  The relief in the room had been palpable, all of them crying a little as Luke said he did too and Alex said he only liked boys.  It hadn’t been any kind of experimentation, really, just more an overflowing of affection and comfort that made Reggie peck first Luke on the lips and then Alex.  They’d all giggled when he pulled back and they haven’t done it again since.

The point is, Reggie wouldn’t mind having another kiss up here in the loft, surrounded by bright, sparkling colors and soft memories.  Maybe it’s premature after only hanging out a grand total of two times, but he’s aching, just a bit, for a little more than what he’s got.  And if Reggie can read Bobby at all, it seems like he might be aching, too.

When Bobby leans his head back against the support beam and says happily, breathes it out, “I think I could live up here,” Reggie makes up his mind.  He’s going to kiss him.  He’s going to kiss Bobby.

The moment the thought finishes forming in Reggie’s brain is the exact moment his luck runs out.  Because before he can move a muscle, a gunshot cracks in the mid-evening stillness and then there’s no time to think about anything at all.

Chapter Text

“I see you kids up there!” an angry voice shouts from somewhere in the distance.  It gets louder with every word – the person must be running toward them.  “You can write whatever snarky thing you want on my sign, but this is still private property!”

“Shit!” Reggie cries, flinging himself to the floor, flat on his belly in the dust.  “Get down!  Away from the window!”

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” Bobby is repeating like a prayer, his eyes huge and full of panic.  He obeys immediately, throwing himself down next to Reggie.  “What the fuck, dude!”

“I swear to God this has never happened before,” Reggie promises, stomach sick with dread.  They need to get the hell out of Dodge before their brain matter ends up splattered against the wall amongst the twinkling lights.  Wouldn’t that make for a pretty picture.  “Down the ladder…go, go, go!”

A couple more shots ring out as they careen down to the first floor, busting through the rungs and leaving the ladder in shambles.  When they hit the ground, they don’t slow down, instinctively reaching out for each other, grabbing hands as they race through the grove of trees.  Reggie cries out when he trips over a tree root, pain shooting up from his ankle and making him go down hard for a fleeting, terrifying second before Bobby hauls him back to his feet.  Branches are whipping them in the face, but it doesn’t matter.  Nothing matters except getting away and getting away fast.

By the time they stumble into the derelict gas station at the town limits, its cheery, red sign calling out to them like a lighthouse in a storm, Reggie’s ankle is so swollen he can barely move it.  The adrenaline was enough to keep the worst of the pain at bay as they ran, but as soon as they stop it flares up something awful until Reggie’s breathing is embarrassing, staccato punches, coming out of his mouth like whimpers.  It isn’t fucking fair. 

All he’d wanted was a kiss, but he’d ended up with a busted ankle instead.  God, he hopes he doesn’t cry.  It hurts like hell.

“I’m so sorry,” he wheezes, sinking to the floor in a heap.  They’re at the back by the payphone, hiding away from the windows.  It didn’t sound like the guy followed them, but you can’t be too careful when it comes to gun nuts.  “We’ve been going there for years – years! – and we’ve never seen another person even once, I swear, I never would’ve taken you there if I thought someone might—”

Bobby shushes him, joining him on the floor.  “I know you didn’t drag me out there to get me shot,” he says, firm despite the way his voice wavers.  He’s clearly still shook up, just much better at hiding it than Reggie.  “It’s not your fault.  I’m worried about your ankle, though, man…it looks bad.”

“It feels bad.”  Reggie’s bottom lip wobbles.  “I don’t know how I’m supposed to get home like this.”

Bobby is quiet for a moment before he seems to come to a decision within himself, slapping his hands onto his thighs with determination before fishing his phone from his pocket.  “Alright.  I’m gonna get us a ride to my house, then we’ll patch you up and send you on your way, how about that?”

Anything sounds better than sitting on a sticky gas station floor trembling with fatigue, so Reggie quickly nods.  Bobby hums in acknowledgment before tapping away at his phone screen until he’s satisfied.

“I didn’t know you could text taxis,” Reggie says.

Bobby doesn’t answer.

The car that pulls up is nicer than any taxi Reggie has ever seen.  The girl working behind the counter must agree, because she lets out a low whistle and turns to them, eyebrows raised.  “That for you guys?” she asks, impressed.  “That’s sick.”

“Apparently so,” Reggie says, his excitement bigger than the pain in his ankle for the time being.  He lets Bobby pull him to his feet, leaning heavily against him as they gingerly make their way out to the car.  The taxi driver greets Bobby by name, which is nice, and even closes the door for them once they’ve piled inside.  It’s like nothing Reggie’s ever experienced before.

Now that the ordeal is over and done with, Reggie can’t stop shivering.  His teeth chatter embarrassingly loudly, making Bobby slide closer in concern.  “The seats are heated,” he tells Reggie, pressing a button on the ceiling.  “You’ll warm up quick.”

They hold hands for the rest of the trip and it warms Reggie up better than anything else ever could.

When the car finally pulls to a stop, Reggie’s eyes can’t make sense of what he’s seeing out the window.  The building in front of them is huge and sprawling, lit up with beautiful lights and framed by immaculate landscaping.  There’s a pond out front with a rock formation climbing out of the center, bubbling with streams of water that pour back into the pond in an endless cycle.  And looking out over the water, there are sturdy wooden swings painted dark brown.  It’s absolutely beautiful.

“Did you take me to the hospital?” Reggie wonders, face scrunched up with confusion.  “I know I’ve kinda been a baby about it, but I don’t think my ankle is bad enough to need a doctor.”

“What?”  Bobby looks just as confused as he is.  “No, this is my house.”

Reggie stares at him, wondering if he’s lost all comprehension of the English language in the past five minutes.  Because this can’t be Bobby’s house…this can’t be anyone’s house.  This is a fucking castle.

His mouth opens and closes a few times before he bursts out, the realization dawning on him all at once, “This isn’t a taxi!”

Bobby at least has the decency to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck.  “This is one of Dad’s,” he says sheepishly, “and that’s our driver, David.”

From the front seat, David nods at Reggie solemnly in greeting.

“Oh god,” Reggie chokes out, feeling a little bit like he’s been tricked.  He’s been pouring his heart out to this guy, telling him all about the Sunset kids and his fucking parents, and it turns out the dude could buy all of them without his pocketbook even breaking a sweat.  “Oh god!”

“Just—let’s go inside, okay?” Bobby pleads with him, hopping out of the fancy ass car that he owns and reaching out to take Reggie’s hand.  “We’ll get you fixed up.  Everything will be alright.”

In a daze, Reggie does as he’s told.

If the outside of Bobby’s house was overwhelming, the inside is just about enough to knock Reggie dead.  It looks like a museum, winding staircases and expensive art on the walls and floors so shiny Reggie can see himself in them.  As soon as he sneaks a peek, he regrets it.  Because he looks beyond out of place in such a nice house, his toes beginning to poke through his right shoe and even his best jeans faded and worn out.  He needs to get back to the motel.  He doesn’t belong here.

But first Bobby takes him to a bathroom on the first floor and plops him down onto the closed toilet seat like it’s nothing at all.  Even though his own face is covered in bleeding scratches and bruises from the tree branches, he cleans Reggie up first, gently wiping the blood away.  The touch of his fingers makes Reggie shiver.

“This part is going to suck,” Bobby warns, mouth already curled into a sympathetic grimace, holding up an ace bandage.  He crouches down in front of Reggie.  “But we gotta do it or it’s gonna be even worse.  Can you lift your leg up for me?”

Silently, Reggie obeys, propping it onto Bobby’s waiting knee.  He hisses through his teeth as Bobby wraps the bandage around his ankle, the injury still tender and swollen.  It hurts like a bitch, but somehow he manages to hold it all together, no whimpering, no shouting, and especially no tears.

When he’s done, Bobby pulls back with a grin.  “There,” he says, admiring his handiwork.  “Not bad for a professional idiot.  Of course, if Carrie were here, she’d have you cured by now.”

Reggie cracks the smallest of smiles.  “Thanks.”

“Hey, it’s no problem.”  Then Bobby’s smile goes shy, his hair falling into his eyes like he’s trying to hide.  “Listen, I had a really good time today, even if we did end up getting chased by some nutso with a gun.  It was worth it to see the clubhouse.  Besides, if I had to pick someone to run for my life with, you’re definitely at the top of the list.”

Then suddenly he’s closer than before, close enough that Reggie can smell his expensive cologne, and everything comes crashing down on Reggie all at once.  It’s too much.  The house is too big and Reggie is too small and he’s sitting on a toilet that probably costs more than everything he owns combined and it’s just too fucking much.  He flinches away.

“I have to go,” he says, desperate and panicky.  “I need to go home!”

Bobby jumps back like Reggie slapped him, his face flooding with pure, unabashed hurt.  For a second it looks like he might cry, but then he swallows hard and swipes the back of his hand across his mouth.  “Okay,” he rasps, the sound of it making Reggie’s chest clench.  He doesn’t want to be rude, but if he stays in this house a minute longer he’s going to pass out.  “I can—I’ll get David to drive you back.”

“No!” Reggie cries, forcing himself up to his feet.  “No, I’ll just walk.  Don’t worry about it.”

“But your ankle!”

“It feels so much better now, see?”  Reggie shifts his weight onto his injured leg, happy to find that it actually does feel quite a bit better now that it’s wrapped.  “I’ll be fine.”

“But—”

“Please, just let me go.”  It comes out like a whimper, pathetic and weak.  “I—I really need to go.”

The plea hangs in the air for a few breathless seconds and then Bobby sighs, resigned.  “Fine,” he says, right on the razor’s edge of bitter.  “Go, then.  Hopefully you get home by morning.”

He doesn’t walk Reggie to the door, just lets him see himself out.  He should feel relieved, but for some reason he really doesn’t.

-

It’s nearly four AM when Reggie finally gets back to the motel, lungs hitching for breath and tears streaming down his face.  The ace bandage really had helped for a while, but no amount of first aid is a match for a five-mile walk.  He’s in absolute agony, pain running up his leg like fire.  With his luck, he’s probably gone and fractured it or something.

When he pushes open the Molinas’ door to see that Flynn and Luke are already cuddled up with Julie in her bed, Reggie almost sobs out loud.  He keeps it back, but just barely, closing the door quietly behind him and heading for another room.  Willie’s is locked, but Alex’s is propped open with a shoe, almost like Alex is waiting for him.  He does sob at that, gratefully stumbling his way inside.

Alex doesn’t stir until Reggie climbs into bed next to him, turning over slowly and mumbling out, “Who’s there?”

Reggie only sniffles in answer.

It’s enough, Alex jerking to full awareness and flicking the bedside lamp on.  “Reg?” he says, squinting at him in the shocking brightness.  “What happened?  Where’ve you been?  We’ve all been worried sick!”

“My ankle hurts,” Reggie says, a fresh wave of tears rolling down his cheeks.  “I sprained it or broke it or something and it—it hurts, Alex.”

“God, come here.”  Alex sits up against the headboard and pulls Reggie into his arms.  Reggie practically collapses into him, shaking and clinging to him like he’s wanted to do for the last string of excruciating hours, hobbling along in the dark and dreaming of home.  Alex strokes the back of Reggie’s hair.  “Did you wrap it?”

“Y-Yeah.  But then I walked on it.”

Alex’s fingers tighten in Reggie’s hair.  If Reggie weren’t crying so hard, Alex probably would’ve slapped him on the back of the head.  “Of course you fucking did, you moron.  Where were you, anyway?”

Reggie whimpers.  “On a date.”

Alex’s body goes still and quiet.  “It didn’t go well, did it?”

“No.”

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

When his sluggish brain latches onto the full meaning of the question, Reggie quickly shakes his head.  “No, I’m fine.”

“Would you tell me if you weren’t fine?”

Reggie pulls back to look Alex in the eyes, steady and serious.  Miraculously, his tears even dry up.  “I would.  I promise.  Alex, I promise.” 

“Okay,” Alex says, finally put at ease.  His shoulders relax from where they were hiked up around his ears and his body slumps over a little, curling around Reggie like a protective blanket.  “I’m sorry the date sucked.  There’s always next time, yeah?”

But with the way Bobby had looked at him, all hurt and betrayed, Reggie isn’t so sure there will be a next time.  It’s just as well – boys like Bobby could never be happy with boys like Reggie.  That’s just how it goes.

“Thanks,” he says anyway, snuggling into Alex’s chest.  “This is so much better than being shot at.”

“What?  I swear to God, Reggie!”

Chapter Text

Over the next few days, Reggie tries valiantly to forget about Bobby and fails miserably.  He probably would’ve been able to manage it if it weren’t for that look.  That look Bobby had given him, like Reggie had reached into his chest, yanked his heart out, and then stomped on it.  Reggie may not be the most well-trained kid in town or even in the Sunset Motel, but he hates hurting people.  It makes him feel sick.

Which is why, after one too many sleepless nights, he decides to do something about it.

He’s not stupid enough to go on foot this time, his ankle still recovering from his foolhardy midnight trek, so he snatches the minivan out from under his parents’ hungover noses and drives it all the way uptown, parking next to the vacant lot.  There’s a good chance he’s going to get a parking ticket – the rusty heap of metal looks just as out of place in the pristine subdivision as Reggie felt in Bobby’s house – but he’ll worry about that later.  The only thing that matters right now is finding Bobby.

It turns out that his hunch was correct, because when Reggie comes crashing through the underbrush and into the clearing, Bobby is sitting on the creekbank, watching the water babble by.  His head snaps up in surprise, his eyes going wide when he sees Reggie. 

“How did you know I’d be here?” he asks, voice quiet.  He sounds tired.  “I didn’t even know I’d be here.”

Reggie sits down next to him.  “Because this is where the sadness stops,” he says simply, shrugging.  He fidgets nervously, twining his fingers around each other in his lap.  “I figured it was worth a shot.”

“Yeah.”

The silence that follows is heavy and strained, the space between them seeming to grow and grow and grow despite neither of them moving.  Finally, Reggie sighs.  “I’m sorry I ran away.  That was a dick move.”

To his surprise, Bobby just shakes his head.  “No, I’m sorry.  I must’ve come on too strong.”

“It just freaked me out, you know?  I had no idea.”

Bobby turns a little bit to look at him, his face pink and his bottom lip caught between his teeth, chewing on it anxiously.  “Did I get the wrong idea?  I’m so sorry, dude, I saw your bracelet and you held my hand and I just thought—”

None of the words he’s saying are making any sense and Reggie can’t do anything but stare at him, increasingly baffled as he continues to ramble.  Then Reggie glances down at the bracelet in question, a dinky little beaded thing Flynn made him when he came out as bi, and everything falls into place.  He and Bobby aren’t even having the same conversation right now.

“I like boys,” Reggie cuts in, making Bobby nearly choke in his haste to turn off the waterfall of embarrassed murmurings and increasingly desperate apologies.  The poor guy’s face is so red it looks painful.  “You definitely had the right idea.  And I—”  He glances away, feeling vulnerable and torn open.  “And I like you.  I just didn’t know you were rich.”

Now it’s Bobby’s turn to stare.  “Oh,” he says, like it’s the only sound he can remember how to make.  “Oh.  Okay.  Yeah, I mean, I guess.”

Reggie laughs in disbelief.  “You guess?  That’s exactly what a rich kid would say!”  Then he winces, hanging his head with guilt.  He didn’t come out here to make Bobby feel worse.  “Listen.  I just felt stupid and out of place, okay?  That’s why I ran.  I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine.  Now that I know—yeah, I get it.”  He smiles a little.  “Don’t worry about it.”

Maybe it’s the touch of hope in Bobby’s voice or the way he scoots just the tiniest bit closer on the creekbank, but suddenly Reggie has the most horrifying realization of his life.  He leaps to his feet.  “You were trying to kiss me!  At your house!  And I left!”

Looking back, it’s glaringly obvious.  Only a special kind of idiot could’ve missed the sweet words and the bashful smile and the leaning in, but apparently Reggie is exactly that kind of idiot.  God, Bobby wanted to kiss him and he ran away.  No wonder he had been so hurt.  Reggie groans, tugging on his hair in annoyance.  He was so caught up in his own feelings of inadequacy that he missed what was right in front of him.

He’s never going to do that again.

So when poor Bobby looks like he’s gearing up for another apology session, Reggie quickly cuts him off at the pass, throwing caution to the wind and admitting, “Dude, I wanted to kiss you, too!  When we were up in the loft.  I was gonna do it, was getting my courage up and everything, but then…you know.”  He curls his hand into the shape of a gun.  “Bang, bang.”

Bobby quickly gets to his feet, too, standing before Reggie with hopeful disbelief shining in his eyes, like he desperately wants to believe what he’s hearing.  “Really?”

“Yeah, man.  Fucking asshole ruined the moment.”

“I can relate,” Bobby mumbles, giving Reggie a pointed glare, and then they both break into laughter, bending over and clutching their stomachs with the force of it.  It’s more a release than anything, pouring out days’ worth of stress and heartache. 

“Holy shit, why are we so bad at this?” Reggie giggles, wiping tears from his eyes. 

“Speak for yourself,” Bobby says, sticking his tongue out at him.  “I’m not the one that almost got us killed!”

“You never can just let me live, can you?”

“Nope!” Bobby says cheerfully, still laughing, and then he yanks Reggie in by the shoulders to hug him tight.

Feeling warm and happy and light as a feather, Reggie hugs him back, burying his face in Bobby’s shoulder.  The smell of his cologne is familiar now, comforting instead of overwhelming like it was back in Bobby’s bathroom.  It doesn’t make him want to run this time – it makes him want to stay.

“Wanna see where I live?” Reggie asks when they pull back, keeping his hands on Bobby’s waist.  “Maybe meet my friends?”

It’s the closest Reggie can get to offering Bobby his literal beating heart and Bobby seems to get that, his face going soft and sweet.  “I’d love to,” he says quietly.  “Thanks, Reggie.”

It feels strange to have Bobby in his parents’ beat up minivan, driving out of the hazy, uptown world and straight into the shittiest parts of town.  Reggie feels nervous like he does before a shopping spree, shifting around in his seat and tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in a rhythmless beat.  He keeps stealing glances at Bobby, terrified of what he might see on his face.

Normally, Reggie couldn’t give less of a shit about the opinions of rich kids if he tried.  He might not be angry like Julie and Luke or ready with some quick answer like Willie and Flynn, but he is stubborn.  Always has been.  And the worse the bullies get, the more aggressively Reggie doesn’t care.  He is who he is and he’s from where he’s from and if they have a problem with it, they can go straight to hell.

But this is Bobby.

This is Bobby who helped him steal medication and took him to his favorite place and wrapped his ankle and gazed up at their trash hanging from the loft ceiling and called it treasure.  Reggie just doesn’t want him to change his mind.

But when Reggie turns into the gravel parking lot of the motel, his ears going red because, god, this is another truth he left out, Bobby just slaps him on the back and says, “Relax.  I can’t wait to meet everybody.”

He doesn’t have to wait long, because Reggie’s boys are in the lobby picking through the recycling while Sheila shouts all manner of curses at them from behind the desk.  Willie doesn’t even look up when they walk in, just calls out, “Yo, Reg, help us out with this.  We ran out of paper for the kids and they’re about to climb the walls, so we’re—”

Luke, who had comically frozen in place the second they came in through the door, slaps him on top of the head to shut him up.

“Ow!  What was that for?” Willie cries, glaring up at him.  Then he does a double take, scrambling to his feet when he realizes Reggie isn’t alone.  “Uh—what?  What’s going on?”

Reggie rolls his eyes.  The Sunset Motel doesn’t often have visitors, but it’s not like it’s completely unheard of.  His friends are ridiculous.  “This is Willie,” Reggie tells Bobby, gesturing at him.  “And that’s Luke.  And the guy hiding behind him is Alex.  Come out and say hi, Alex.”

Sheepishly, Alex shuffles out from behind Luke, eyeing them warily.  “I wasn’t hiding,” he mutters, face aflame.  “That’s just where I happened to be standing.”

“Whatever you say, buddy.”  Then Reggie points over at Bobby and says, “Guys, this is—”

“Bobby Wilson,” Luke says, crossing his arms across his chest.  “Yeah, we know.”

Reggie’s mouth drops open in shock.  “Wait, you know him?”

“Know of him.”

“He’s Trevor Wilson’s kid,” Willie says, jutting his chin at Bobby.  “They own half the township.”

 “You really didn’t know?” Alex asks, a little gentler than Luke and Willie but no less incredulous.  “You’ve been running around with Bobby Wilson and had no idea?”

Reggie throws his hands in the air.  “No, I didn’t fucking know!  Leave me alone.”

Next to Reggie, Bobby has curled into himself, studying the floor and squirming a little bit as the boys squabble back and forth.  A pang of hurt hits Reggie in the chest because he knows what it’s like to walk into a room and have people talk about you like you’re not even there.  It sucks and his friends should be ashamed of themselves.

“Stop being assholes,” he snaps, the anger in his voice making his friends whirl to look at him in alarm.  It takes a lot to heat Reggie up, so on the rare occasions that it happens, they know he means business.  “He’s cool and I like him and I brought him here because I wanted him to meet my friends.  My family.  But apparently you guys can’t handle it.” 

His friends shrink away from the very public dressing down, faces immediately going contrite.  Reggie just glares at them.

“Oh god, sorry, dude,” Willie says to Bobby, swiping a hand down his face.  “I wasn’t trying to be a dick…I was just surprised.”

Alex nods vehemently.  His hands are buried deep in his hoodie pockets like he does when he gets overwhelmed.  “Me, too.  I’m really sorry.”

“Honestly, I’m just kind of an asshole,” Luke admits, decently shamefaced about it.  “But that was too far.  I’m glad you’re here, alright?  Welcome to the Sunset.”  He holds a fist out for Bobby to bump.  “We all good?”

Bobby’s eyes flick from one boy to the next, calculating.  Then he nods.  “Yeah, we’re all good.”  He knocks his fist into Luke’s, most of the tension draining from the room.  It’s like the walls themselves breathe a sigh of relief. 

Even so, once the boys go back to trash diving, Reggie makes sure to check in with Bobby, pulling him discreetly to the side and murmuring, “I’m sorry about them.  They’re dumbasses, but they don’t mean it.  If you wanna go, I totally get it.”

But Bobby only smiles at him, pretty and understanding and enough to make Reggie’s stomach jump.  “That’s hardly the worst I’ve ever gotten.  If dudes with guns can’t scare me away, then dumbasses with—”  He stops, squinting at whatever is happening over Reggie’s shoulder.  “—their hands down each other’s pants? won’t either.” 

Reggie lurches back around, letting out a frustrated groan when he sees that, sure enough, Alex has shoved Luke’s phone down his jeans, probably as some form of punishment.  Never one to be deterred by pesky little things like personal space or being in public, Luke’s up to his elbow in denim trying to get it back.  Next to them, Willie is laughing so hard his face has gone red. 

“Oh my god, who raised you?” Reggie shouts, even though he knows the answer.  No one.  Each other.  Ray when he had the time.  Shaking his head in disbelief, Reggie grabs Bobby’s hand and drags him out of the lobby, saying, “Ugh, let’s go find the girls.  They’re at least civilized most of the time.”

Thankfully, Bobby just laughs and holds on tight. 

But just because Bobby’s taken everything in stride thus far, it doesn’t mean Reggie is going to let him walk into Room 8 unprepared.  That’d be enough to overwhelm anyone, let alone a guy who spends his days bouncing around a gigantic mansion with only his sister for company.  So Reggie tells him, hoping it’s enough of a warning, “Um, before you go in there, you should know we’ve got a bunch of rabid babies.”

Bobby raises an eyebrow.  “Okay?”

“Yeah, there’s seven.  Only Nova bites, though…we’ve trained it out of the rest of them.”

It shouldn’t be surprising considering the way Bobby seems to adapt to any situation that’s thrown at him, but it’s still a bone-deep relief to see how comfortably he greets the kids when they fling themselves at him, ecstatic to have a new friend to climb all over.  Julie and Flynn take one look at him and turn to Reggie with pure shock written across their faces – honestly, is Reggie the only person in town who didn’t know who Bobby Wilson was? – but they have the good sense to keep their mouths shut, giving Bobby a welcoming hug when Reggie introduces him.  Bobby is clearly pleased, smiling at Reggie over the top of Flynn’s head.

“I can’t believe you,” Julie whispers to Reggie at one point as they watch Quentin launch himself onto Bobby’s back.  Bobby catches him easily behind his knees, hiking him up to make sure he doesn’t fall.  “The first time you bring a boy home and it’s Bobby fucking Wilson.”

“In my defense, I didn’t know that,” Reggie points out, still feeling a little stupid about the whole thing.

Julie loops her arms around his waist, grinning fondly up at him.  “Don’t ever change, Reg, okay?  What would we do without you?”

“You’d have to drive your own getaway van, for one thing.”

“Shut up,” Julie laughs, nuzzling her cheek into his shoulder for a second before pulling away.  “Go save your boy, yeah?  I know from experience that Quentin gets heavy really damn fast.”

Once Quentin is back safely on the ground and Reggie has managed to extract Bobby from the clutches of seven feral children, he asks, only somewhat joking, “So, are you ready to run away screaming yet?”

“Nah,” Bobby says, giving Reggie’s shoulder a squeeze.  He doesn’t look any worse for the wear, eyes dancing with delight.  “I think I’ll stick around for a while, if that’s cool with you.”

Reggie can’t do anything but beam.

-

Bobby is a boy of his word, sticking around long past the time anyone else would have made their excuses and run for the hills.  He stays through the chaos of dinner with the kids, stays when they build a gigantic blanket fort with all of Alex’s bedding and towels, and even stays after the little ones have been picked up and everyone dissipates to their own rooms.  He stays even though it gets dark and still, his fingers linked with Reggie’s as they stroll through the field out back, heads tipped up to look at the stars.  They’re so much brighter here than uptown, most of the streetlights burned out or shattered by bored kids with nothing better to do. 

Even in the dark, Bobby is beautiful, gazing up at the sky and swinging their arms a little bit and staying, staying, staying.  Bobby may be watching the stars, but Reggie is watching Bobby. 

“I can see why you like it here,” Bobby says after a long stretch of companionable quiet.  “It’s like one big, happy family.”

“Some parts are happier than others,” Reggie says, mind flitting to his parents for a second before he forcibly shakes the thought from his head.  They don’t get to ruin this the way they ruin everything else.  “But I’m definitely never lonely.”

Bobby hums thoughtfully.  “That probably makes the future pretty scary, huh?  Have you thought about what you’ll do after graduation?  If you’ll leave?”

The question pulls Reggie up short, a prickle of unease going down his spine.  Because it is scary, it’s terrifying, and Reggie has a seventeen-year record of avoiding scary things like the plague.  “Well, I still have another year after this,” he says slowly, fingers itching to fidget.  Since one hand is still in Bobby’s, he settles for digging the nails of his other one into his palm until it stings a little.  “But, honestly, I haven’t thought much about the future.  Sometimes it’s hard to remember that there’s anything beyond this, you know?  It’s all I’ve ever known.”  Then he shrugs.  “I’ll probably end up doing construction or something, like my dad and Mr. Molina.”

Bobby pulls them to a stop, standing in front of Reggie and studying him intently, like he’s trying to read his mind.  Reggie isn’t used to the scrutiny, has spent his whole life being treated like he’s simple and skin-deep.  Not in a bad way, necessarily – just like he wears his heart on his sleeve and his every thought on his face, which he usually does.  But Bobby looks at him, really looks at him, like he’s a mystery he wants to solve.  It makes Reggie’s face go hot.

Finally Bobby asks, “But what do you want to do?”

The blush only burns hotter.  “I mean, me and my friends have talked music a lot, but that’s not the kind of stuff that happens for kids like us.”  Before Bobby can say some well-meaning but ultimately naïve rich boy shit about following your dreams, Reggie quickly flips the question on him.  “What are you gonna do?”

To Reggie’s surprise, Bobby’s face crinkles up with displeasure.  “Business school,” he says, sounding so down about it that a single burst of laughter escapes from Reggie’s mouth before he claps a hand over his lips.  Bobby says business school the same way Flynn says romance or Willie says cops.  The same way Reggie always says parents.

“Listen to you!  You’re lecturing me about doing what I want, but then you’re like lemme fling myself off this cliff real quick.”

Bobby snorts, shoving Reggie by the shoulder.  “Shut up,” he says, but he’s more amused than annoyed, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.  “It’s not like there’s ever been an option!  It’s always about what Dad wants.  Carry on the family legacy or don’t come home for Christmas, you know how it is.”

For the first time in his life, Reggie is grateful that his family has exactly zero legacy to speak of.  Sure, growing up in a cramped motel room eating slimy lunchmeat out of a beer cooler and jumping from bed to bed when his parents won’t stop screaming isn’t exactly an orthodox upbringing, but at least it means there are no expectations.  If Reggie ends up with any job at all, even if it only pays minimum wage, he’s already doing better than the path he was born on.  Hell, if Reggie and all his friends even end up with diplomas, he thinks Sheila might throw a party.  Congrats on beating the statistics, you little fuckers, the cake will read in fancy swirls of frosting.  Now get out of my motel!  It’ll be amazing.

“I think we both need to snap out of it,” Reggie tells Bobby with a grin.  “You’re not your dad and I’m not mine.  We make our own options.”

“The optimism is impressive, dude.  Like, truly.”

“Too much?”

“Nah, just enough,” Bobby says and then he slides a hand around the back of Reggie’s neck, pulls him in, and kisses him.

Reggie’s first and second kisses were good, but his third is infinitely better, pushing up onto his tiptoes under the stars and crumbling his fists into the front of Bobby’s shirt.  He clings to him desperately, pressing his lips to Bobby’s as well as he can, and maybe it’s right on the border of too much, but Reggie can’t help it.  Because Bobby is beautiful and kind and he listens and he likes Reggie, sees every bit of the mess of his life and somehow still likes him, and Reggie is so happy to kiss him he can barely breathe.

Bobby is breathless, too, when he pulls away, laughing a little bit and saying, “That’s what I was trying to do at my house.”

Reggie is smiling so hard it hurts.  “I’m glad it was here instead.”

Bobby looks around at the unkempt field of scrub grass and weeds and the outline of the dilapidated motel in the distance, all lit up by the moon and stars overhead, and then leans forward to press his forehead against Reggie’s.  “Me, too.”

It’s Reggie that initiates this time, eagerly closing the distance between them and running trembling fingers over Bobby’s jaw.  He feels almost giddy, ready to float right out of his body and take his place among the stars, because it turns out that boys like Bobby can be happy with boys like Reggie.  Reggie just has to let him.

 So he does, leading Bobby by the hand back to the motel and laughing and kissing back every time Bobby pulls him close again.  They end up in the bottom of the Sunset’s empty pool, drained almost ten years ago to drop room prices, with Reggie perched in Bobby’s lap amongst the graffiti and fallen leaves.  There’s a bright blue LP + JM to his left and Reggie can’t help but huff a laugh against Bobby’s mouth.  Intertwined even in this.

“I wish I could’ve met you a long time ago,” Bobby says after a while, pulling away but still cupping the side of Reggie’s face.  He smudges his thumb over Reggie’s jaw, making him shiver.  “I don’t think I realized how lonely I was until I wasn’t anymore.”

Even after spending the past few minutes kissing, Bobby looks embarrassed about the admission, looking down at his lap and avoiding Reggie’s eyes.  And Reggie can’t have that, can’t have Bobby thinking he’s anything but safe with him, so he quickly takes Bobby’s hands in both of his and drops a gentle kiss to his knuckles. 

“There really wasn’t anyone?” he whispers sadly, sitting back on Bobby’s thighs to get a good look at him.  “And I don’t mean boyfriends.  Just…anyone at all.”

Bobby sighs.  It sounds mournful.  “Not anyone that mattered – not anyone that actually cared.  With who my dad is, there’s always lots of people around at parties and PR events and stuff, but they’re not…real.  They just tell you what you wanna hear and be who they think you want them to be, walking around on their tiptoes like you’re gonna yank your wallet out from under them.”  Then he breaks into a smile, like the sun coming out on a dreary day.  “That’s why it’s cool hanging out with you, because we can just talk about things.  Real things, even if they’re sad or stupid or fucked up.  And you don’t pretend, you just are.  Not a lot of people are like that.”  He shrugs.  “At least not with me.”

Reggie’s chest blooms warm with a mixture of affection and protectiveness.  As much as he loves to hear that Bobby likes him so much, he can’t help but be a little pissed off that no one else has ever tried to get to know him.  Bobby deserves so much better than that. 

“Well, those jackasses are missing out,” Reggie declares, crossing his arms over his chest.  “And I’d march right into one of those stupid parties and tell them myself.”

Bobby rolls his eyes.  “Shut up.”

“No, for real, dude!”  Reggie grabs him by the shoulders, giving him a little shake.  He’s frantic, suddenly, to make Bobby understand.  “You’re so much more than any of those idiots think and I’d fucking deck them if I thought it’d actually do anything.  I’m a fucking mess, alright, and you’ve spent the past few weeks repeatedly saving my ass because that’s what you do.  You care a lot and I had no idea that people like you existed outside this building.”  He flings a hand behind him in the vague direction of the motel, lights periodically going off in the windows as the night grows later.  “All you wanna do is help, don’t you?”

This time, when Bobby tucks his chin against his chest and curls into himself, it’s because he’s overcome, not embarrassed.  He barely manages to stutter out, “It—it’s no big deal.”

Reggie puts a finger under his chin and tilts his head up.  “It is to me,” he says, bending forward so Bobby will look him in the eyes.  “And I don’t say things I don’t mean, remember?”

Both a little dazed, they meet in the middle this time, their mouths crashing together and their hands in each other’s hair.  It’s a little more desperate this time, a little more heated, and Reggie’s skin feels like it’s on fire.  Just when he makes an embarrassing sound into Bobby’s mouth and scoots impossibly closer, a small, timid voice says from somewhere over their heads, “Reggie?”

Reggie jerks away from Bobby’s lips like someone’s tased him, giggling a little because it’s just so fucking typical and dropping his head onto Bobby’s collarbone.  “Fuck,” he breathes, trembling as he tries to calm down.  Bobby doesn’t seem to be doing much better, gasping for air and digging his fingertips into Reggie’s hips.  “Of course.”

Reggie rolls out of Bobby’s lap, swiping his shirtsleeve over his mouth.  “Yeah, Abs?” he says, clearing his throat as he looks up at the oldest of Flynn’s cousins.  She’s standing on the edge of the pool, chewing nervously on her fingernails.  “You need something?”

She looks from Reggie to Bobby and then back again, clearly putting things together.  Reggie fights off a blush as well as he can – he will not feel chastised by a seven-year-old, god.  He’s literally seen her puke into the bathtub before. 

“I’m sorry,” she squeaks, cringing.  “But Flynn just got her—”  She hesitates, glancing at Bobby like she can’t decide whether he’s safe or not.  “—her thing and she needs help getting out of bed, but I’m not strong enough to do it yet and Mama’s not home and I can’t find anyone else and—!”  She cuts herself off, finally taking a breath.  “We need you!”

If anything was going to throw a bucket of ice water onto the situation, that does it.  “Oh, shit,” Reggie says, jumping to his feet.  “Hey, it’s alright, I’ll come help you.  Just—just gimme a second, okay?  Go tell Flynn I’m coming.”

Abby nods gratefully and then races away like someone lit a fire under her butt.

Once she’s out of sight, Reggie turns to Bobby with a deep sigh.  “I’m sorry,” he says sheepishly.  “I really do have to go.  This is what it’s like around here.  Pretty much always.”

Because Bobby is a fucking saint, he just laughs, slapping Reggie on the back.  “I’m figuring that out, yeah.  Don’t worry about it.  There’s always next time, right?”

Reggie breaks into a grin, excitement zinging through him at the promise of another day.  “Right!”  Then he winces.  “Oh, uh…this is definitely gonna be an all night thing, so do you wanna borrow the van?  You can drive it home and then I can pick it up later.”

But Bobby waves away the offer.  “I’m good.  If you were able to make it home on one good ankle, I’m sure I can do it on two.  Go take care of your girl, man, I’ll be alright.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely.”  Then he smirks.  “I think you owe me a kiss for my troubles, though.”

If there’s anyone in the world that deserves a kiss it’s Bobby Wilson, so Reggie practically launches himself at him, grabbing him by the face and putting as much of himself into it as he can.  “Debt paid?” he asks as he pulls away, cheeks flushed.

Bobby pecks him on the tip of his nose.  “In full.”

And then he’s gone, climbing out of the empty pool with impressive ease and disappearing into the darkness, light on his feet with happiness.  Reggie’s heart feels too big for his chest.

His heart plummets again when he cautiously walks into the Taylors’ room and finds Flynn curled up in a little ball.  “Oh, babe,” he murmurs, a sympathy pain shooting through his fingertips.  “It’s a bad one, huh?”

Flynn nods into her pillow, eyes squeezed shut.  Her cheeks are wet with tears.  “It’s so fucking stupid,” she wheezes, frustrated.  “I can’t even get up to take a piss without cracking my head open and dying.”

“I’ve got you,” Reggie promises, taking one of her hands and moving her ever so gently to a sitting position.  Then he curls an arm around her back, supporting all her weight as she climbs out of bed and stands up.  Even with Reggie basically walking for her, Flynn still sways on her feet, moaning in pain as she pitches forward.  Reggie plants his feet, keeping her from falling.  This is why they can never leave her alone.

Once she’s used the bathroom and is tucked back beneath the covers, Reggie gets Abby, Izzy, and Ezra ready for bed, doing an assembly line at the sink with their toothbrushes, toothpaste, and cups of water.  The poor kids are ready to drop, up much later than usual since Flynn couldn’t take care of them, so Reggie ends up having to carry Ezra to bed, laying him down gently on his sofa cushions. 

Once they’re out like exhausted little lights, Reggie climbs into the big bed next to Flynn and curls protectively around her.  “Is it time for more meds yet?” he whispers into the half-darkness, a nightlight shining from over by the sink. 

Flynn yawns.  “Not yet.  Couple hours.”  Then, “Sorry about this.  I hope I didn’t pull you away from anything important.”

Reggie laughs a little.  “Nothing too important.  Just making out with Bobby.”

Flynn’s body goes rigid.  “Oh no!” she cries, looking back over her shoulder at him.  “Fuck, I’m the worst!  I’m so sorry, Reg!”

“No, come on…it’s okay,” Reggie assures her, pressing his forehead to the back of her neck.  “It’s not your fault.  Besides, it’s not like I’m never going to see him again.”

“You mean we didn’t manage to scare him away?  We’ve lost our touch.”

“There’ll be other opportunities, I’m sure.  I believe in you guys.”

Flynn lets out a whimper, then, a wave of pain crashing over her.  She reaches back blindly for Reggie’s arm, digging her fingernails into his skin once she finds it.  It hurts a little, but Reggie doesn’t pull away, waiting it out.  When she finally relaxes again, she moans in annoyance, “I can’t believe I’m the only single one left.  He’s got a sister, doesn’t he?”

Reggie wrinkles his nose, the concepts of Flynn and girlfriend so far apart in his brain they might as well be in different countries.  “I thought you didn’t want a girlfriend?”

Somehow she manages to laugh.  “I don’t.  But a sugarmama I could get into.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” Reggie says, shaking his head.  “But, yeah, he does have a sister.  Her name’s Carrie.”

“Perfect.”

When Auntie Michelle finally gets back from her late shift at the diner, Flynn is fast asleep and Reggie is close to it.  He forces his eyes open just enough to greet her with a small wave of his fingers.  She just gives him a sad smile, coming over to stroke a gentle knuckle over Flynn’s cheek.  “My poor girl,” she whispers, then turns to Reggie.  “Thanks for taking care of her.”

It makes Reggie’s body go warm and happy.  When it comes down to it, Bobby isn’t the only one that just wants to help.  “You know we’ve always got her.”

“Yeah.  You gonna sleep here tonight, hon?”

Reggie presses closer to Flynn on instinct, the thought of leaving her when she’s in so much pain completely unfathomable.  “If that’s okay?”

But he needn’t have asked, because Michelle only pats him on the shoulder.  “You know we’ve always got you, too.”

When Reggie falls asleep, he dreams of twinkling stars and empty pools and beautiful boys who stay.

Chapter Text

“You guys are so fucking busted,” Lyla says as Reggie, Julie, Willie, and Flynn walk into the motel, not even bothering to look up from where she’s painting her toenails.  The lobby is permeated with the chemical smell of polish – it’s a wonder Sheila hasn’t run her outside yet.

A prickling panic zings through Reggie’s body at her words even though he knows intellectually that there’s no way they’d been caught or followed.  Today’s haul is bigger than usual – Flynn had worked her magic and managed to get some in-store credit returning a couple of t-shirts Willie had lifted last month.  Reggie doesn’t know how she does it, but he’s a little bit in awe of her.  That girl could lie to a priest and get away with it.

Clearly Willie has none of Reggie’s worries because he just flips his middle finger at his sister with a laugh.  “Fuck off.  You know we never get caught.”

Lyla finally looks up, taking in their loaded down pockets and bags.  “Oh, not that,” she says with the air of someone who doesn’t give a shit.  “No one cares about that.  We do have a letter from your school, though.”

That instantly puts them all on edge, snapping to attention and eyes going wide. 

“Wait, for real?” Julie says, eyebrows pulling together quizzically.  “What do they want?”

“Fifteen hundred dollars,” Sheila pipes up from behind the front desk, tone a mixture of annoyance and elation, like she’s gloating that consequences have finally caught up to her most headache-inducing tenants.  Told you so, her smirk seems to say.  You should’ve fucking listened.  “It’s not just a letter, it’s a bill.”

Reggie reaches the desk first, snatching the letter from Sheila’s hands and reading over it with his heart climbing up into his throat.  “It’s for the lunch table,” he announces after he’s done, his voice echoing in his own ears.  Everything has gone a little hazy, like he can’t bring it back into focus.  Fifteen hundred dollars is a hell of a lot of money.  For them, it might as well be a billion.  “We thought we got off easy, but we didn’t.  They even say here that they aren’t sure who actually did it, but since it’s our name on it…well.”  He makes a face.  “We’re the ones that have to pay.”

“You’re kidding me.  How can they do that?” Julie demands, coming over to see for herself.  She’s starting to shake with anger and Reggie eyes her warily just in case he has to make a grab for her.  She looks murderous, but he figures that’s pretty understandable considering.  “How is that fucking fair?”

“Since when has anyone in this town ever cared about fair?” Flynn points out, clearly resigned to their fate.  “If their two options are going after us or going after the rich guys who donate to the school so they can get a gym named after them, who do you think they’re gonna pick?”

“Still, though.  Fifteen hundred bucks.”  Willie whistles under his breath.  “How are we supposed to pay that?”

“You’re not,” Lyla says matter-of-factly, capping her nail polish and then getting to her feet.  She holds her hand out for the letter and Reggie gives it to her, arms leaden with worry.  “None of us are.”

Then, without a moment’s hesitation, she rips the bill in half.

They gape at her for a few seconds before Willie breaks the shocked silence with a full-body giggle, pulling up onto his toes like the laughter needs more room to get out.  “And everyone acts like we’re bad,” he crows, grin a mile wide.  “So that’s how we’re gonna play it?”

Lyla just grins back.  “That’s how we’re gonna play it.  And we’re gonna go get ice cream, too.  I’ll buy!”

“No way!” Reggie cries, the anxious haze finally lifting, leaving nothing but excitement behind.  He throws his arms around her shoulders in a sloppy, too-tight hug.  “Thanks, Lyla!  Luke and Alex are gonna be so jealous.”

“You know what?” Lyla says, patting his back a few times before pushing him off.  “Bring ‘em with.  The kids and Carlos, too.  I’m feeling generous today.”

“Oh gosh, are you sure?” Willie asks nervously, like he’s too afraid to hope that she means it.  “That’s a lot of people.”

“I just saved us over a thousand dollars, I think I can spare twenty.”  Then her voice goes quiet, hard, tired.  “Why should the rich kids have all the fun?  They get to traipse around in their fancy clothes trashing school property and starting fights and wasting their daddies’ money, but you guys are seventeen years old and you spend your entire lives working, stealing, and babysitting.  You want unfair?  That’s fucking unfair.  Today we’re gonna live a little, alright?”

There are honest-to-God tears in Willie’s eyes when he flings himself at his sister, hugging her around the waist and burying his face in her shoulder.  When he thanks her it comes out muffled.

She kisses him on top of the head.  “I can’t do a lot, kid, but I can do this.  So if you’re done blubbering, let’s head out, yeah?”

They pile into the minivan like it’s a clown car, eight kids, six teenagers, and the world’s most sarcastic thirty-year-old stacked on top of each other like Tetris pieces.  It’s actually more nerve-wracking than driving getaway and Reggie finds himself praying to anyone that might be listening that he won’t get pulled over.  That’d be a fun one to explain to his parents. 

Luckily they make it to the ice cream shop without mishap and when they come spilling out of the car like someone’s busted a hole in a dam, no one in the parking lot so much as bats an eyelash.  Their side of town might be shitty and rundown, but people mind their own business.  Reggie’s always appreciated that.

They end up packed around one of the picnic tables, laughing and talking and dripping ice cream all over the place.  Reggie has Jack in his lap, holding a tiny cone up to the little boy’s face since his chubby, one-year-old fingers aren’t coordinated enough yet.  Melted ice cream is trailing down Reggie’s wrist and into the sleeve of his shirt, which is super fucking gross, but it’s hard to mind when he has Luke next to him shoving spoonfuls of chocolate first into his own mouth and then into Reggie’s.

“You’re as bad as the babies,” Luke has the audacity to say after he misses Reggie’s mouth by a mile and ends up smearing ice cream on his cheek.  “Look at you…you’re a mess.”

Reggie sticks his cold tongue out at him.  “It’s not my fault you can’t aim.”

“That’s why no one uses the bathroom after you,” Carlos pipes up from across the table, nose-deep in mint chocolate chip and smug as hell.

The table goes up into cackling laughter while Luke squawks in protest.  “Alright, whose idea was it to bring the twerp?” he demands, bending his spoon back and launching a mouthful of ice cream at Carlos that flies well over his head.  “I have excellent form, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, that’s why you can’t hit me from two feet away!”

“Oh, this is great,” Lyla says dryly from where she’s in the middle of wiping a splotch of strawberry out of Kimmy’s hair.  “This is wonderful.  We should totally do this again sometime.”

“You love us,” Flynn tells her with a saccharine smile, batting her eyelashes.  “You know you do.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t go on about it.”

Reggie loves them, too, every single disheveled, chaotic piece of them.  Because after all the yelling in Room 5 is over and the penny-pinching budgeting is done, this is what Reggie’s life is: a picnic table full of laughter and arms around shoulders and the very best people banding together to make something whole out of broken parts. 

But his world isn’t quite as small as it was before and for the first time ever it feels like someone is missing.  Alex and Willie are curled around each other, fitting together like puzzle pieces, and Julie has joined forces with Carlos to keep teasing Luke, and Reggie finds himself wishing that Bobby was there.  They haven’t talked about what they are to each other – it’s too early for that – but Reggie knows that he wants Bobby around.  He wants him present for the chaos, as tangled up and interwoven as everyone else is.  It’s a strange, almost jarring realization, but it’s true all the same. 

He needs to call Bobby as soon as he gets home.

-

Reggie had every intention of following through on that plan, but, as per fucking usual, the universe conspires against him.  Because the motel is in a complete uproar when they get back, tenants running up and down the hallways and Sheila barking orders in an increasingly shrill voice.  Reggie and his friends jump into action immediately, recognizing the frenzied song and dance for what it is: Inspection Day.

They have to deal with this a couple times a year, the state sending some man in a stuffy suit down to decide whether they get to keep their home for another few months.  They’re usually only given a couple hours of warning, just long enough to fix any fire hazards or health code violations.  Everyone pitches in to help, even Reggie’s parents.  It’s just about the only time they willingly make themselves useful.

“I’ll take half the kids to the park,” Reggie says, trying to keep calm.  The panicked bustling always puts him on high alert, overloaded with noise and movement and emotion.  “And how about Julie and Flynn take the other half to the library?”

“Yeah, we’ll take my cousins,” Flynn agrees, already grabbing Abby and Izzy by their hands.  Julie scoops up Ezra, who happily hugs her around the neck like he doesn’t have a care in the world.  Oh, to be a kid again.  “The rest of you fix up the rooms and call us when the coast is clear.  We good?”

“We’re good,” Alex agrees.  Then, pulling Nova onto his back, “I’m with you, Reg.  Let’s disappear, guys.”

There’s no way the kids understand permits and laws and the deep, deep shit they could all get into for running an unregistered daycare out of a motel room, but they do understand the urgency of the vanishing act.  So they follow Reggie and Alex through the crumbling streets, on their best behavior like they rarely are.  They don’t shout or run out into the middle of the road, they just hold hands and keep calm until the park is in sight.

The rest of the afternoon is spent pushing the kids on the swings and sheepishly bumming a clean diaper off a nice mom when Jack needs a change.  And when Luke calls, they’re relieved to hear that the inspection went off without a hitch.

The Sunset Motel lives to see another day.

It’s dark when they get back and Reggie is exhausted, eyes bleary as he squints down at his phone and tries to decide whether he should call Bobby.  He doesn’t even know what he’d say.  Hey, so you remember how my life is a disaster?  I was thinking maybe I could inflict that upon you on a more regular basis.  And also I kinda wanna put my tongue in your mouth again, if that’s something you’d be into.

Fuck.

In the end, Reggie’s uncharacteristic over-analysis is all for naught, because Bobby calls him first. 

His phone nearly falls out of his hands as he races to answer it, swiping it open and bursting out with more enthusiasm than is probably necessary, “I’m so glad you called!”

Bobby, true to form, just laughs.  “I’m glad to hear that, because I was kind of hoping I could take you up on that offer.”

Reggie’s fizzy good mood pops like soap bubbles.  Bobby doesn’t sound sad, sounds more hesitant and careful than anything, but it’s really easy to imagine him sitting alone in that huge, echoing house, surrounded by expensive furniture and designer clothes and nothing that can keep him warm when the world feels cold.  There’s no noise in the background, just dead fucking silence.  It’s awful.

If Reggie lived like that, he’d be lonely, too.

“Do you want me to come over?” Reggie asks, concerned.  “So you don’t have to be by yourself?”

To his surprise Bobby turns him down.  “Nah, dude, I’m alright.  It’s getting late.”  Then his voice pitches high and cautious.  “Could you maybe just talk to me?  Doesn’t matter what it’s about.  Just anything.”

It feels like being handed a gift and Reggie breaks into a grin.  “You’re gonna regret that!  You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed.”

“I think I do,” Bobby says, but he sounds delighted at the prospect, so Reggie seizes the opportunity and jumps right in.

“Did you know that there’s an ocean in space?” he asks, tingling excitement running down his spine at the very thought.  “Just this giant blob of water floating out there in the void?”

“For real?”

“Yeah!  It’s centered around a black hole and full of so much water it could fill the Earth over 140 trillion times.  God, do you even know how much water that is?  That’s like—fuck, that’s a lot!”

“Is that a scientific measurement?” Bobby asks, teasing tone apparent even over the phone.

“Fuck you,” Reggie says happily, then launches into the eating habits of the Goliath frogs in Cameroon.  “They’re big enough to eat turtles!  Which Alex says is really gross, but I think it’s super cool.  Imagine meeting a frog that could bite your hand off!  But, unfortunately, they’re endangered now because people keep taking them away from their rivers.  The IUCN is trying to fix that, but they can only do so much.”

Bobby makes an inquisitive noise.  “The what?”

“Oh.  Right.  The International Union for Conservation of Nature.”

“You just know this stuff off the top of your head?”

Reggie’s face goes warm.  “Yeah.  Is that weird?”

“A little, but I like it.  Tell me something else.”

So Reggie does, filling the silence with the genetic makeup of killer bees and the mechanics behind deep sea waterfalls and how heat lightning doesn’t actually exist.  Bobby listens intently all the while, making noises of interest and asking questions when he wants to know more.  It’s one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for Reggie.

Despite the euphoria of being set loose, Reggie notices when Bobby goes quiet, his questions and comments fewer and farther between.  “You can hang up on me if you want,” Reggie tells him after a while, blushing hot.  “We don’t have to keep doing this.  I know I can get carried away sometimes.”

 “No, it’s not that, it’s just—I was thinking and—”  Bobby sighs and then his words come out in a rush, like they’ve been building up behind his teeth for the past half hour.  “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you who I am.  You’ve been nothing but nice to me and I pretty much lied to you and that’s so not cool.”  He makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat.  “I just wanted things to be normal for once.  I wanted to be normal for once.”

That, at least, is something they have in common – a desperate wish for normalcy.

“Bobby.”  His name comes out of Reggie’s mouth so gently it feels like a kiss.  Reggie wants so badly to reach out and touch Bobby, but his words are going to have to be enough for now.  “I get it, alright?  You’ve dealt with so many assholes – of course you wanted to protect yourself.  I did the same thing, not telling you about the motel.”  Then he takes a deep breath and admits, shame swirling icy and sick in his stomach, “I’m kind of glad I didn’t know, because I don’t think I would’ve wanted to hang out with you.  Which is really fucked up considering I know what it’s like to be written off because of where I’m from.”

“I think that’s a little different.”

“Yeah, it is,” Reggie allows, the worst of his childhood memories rising up for a split second: coming home with a busted lip from some rich kid that got away with it, a sneering mom yanking her daughter away from him at the park when he was five and just wanted to play, his Geometry teacher assuming he was cheating because he aced every test.  “But I still wanna make sure I get to know people before I decide they’re shitty.”

“Me too.”  Bobby’s voice is hopeful when he asks, “So you’re really not mad?”

“Nah.  And everything is out in the open now.  We’re good.”

Bobby sounds relieved when he breathes, “Thanks, Reggie.”  Then he laughs a little, light and pretty.  It reminds Reggie of their strings of glass clinking together in the loft on a windy day.  “Just think, we wouldn’t be here right now if you hadn’t—”

“Stop!” Reggie cuts in, horrified.  It feels like someone doused him in gasoline, flicked a lighter on, and then lit him up.  “I know what you’re about to say and I’m begging you to stop!”

“Oh, come on, don’t be embarrassed!  It happens to the best of—”

“Stop!”

“It’s not every day you help a cute guy steal—”

“I’m going to hang up on you!”

“But think about what a good story it’ll make one day!  Listen here, kiddos, one time I got so fucking sick I—”

“I hate you so much,” Reggie says, trying hard for indignance but having to settle for breathless laughter.  “I take it all back…I never want to see you again!”

Bobby doesn’t believe it for a second, cackling so loudly into Reggie’s ear he has to hold his phone out a couple inches.  It’s a blessed sound, uninhibited and carefree and warm, like he’s not shivering in a cold, soulless fortress.  Like he doesn’t know what it’s like to be alone.

It rings out in Reggie’s head long after they hang up.

-

It’s still dancing through Reggie’s brain the next day, warm like sunshine on his skin, when Willie pauses where he’s helping Kimmy climb onto his skateboard and says, eyes alight with mischief, “Bro, don’t look now, but there’s a hot, rich guy behind you.”

Reggie whirls around on his heel and, sure enough, there’s Bobby, appearing from around the corner of the motel.  He looks a bit unsure, hunched over with his hands buried deep in his pockets, but when he sees Reggie he breaks into a smile that makes butterflies flap their little wings in Reggie’s stomach.  “Hey,” he calls, quiet and sweet, and Reggie can’t help but beam like an idiot.  Bobby’s so fucking cute.

“Hey,” Reggie says back, unable to fight off a blush as Bobby skids down the steep cement and jumps into the bottom of the empty pool.  He can’t help but think about the last time they were in the pool and what they were doing…and how much he’d like to do it again.

Bobby must be thinking the same thing because he glances over at their little kissing corner and then looks quickly away, like he’s afraid he’ll get caught.  It floods Reggie with affection and he’s scrambling over to throw his arms around Bobby in a clumsy hug before he can talk himself out of it. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, meaning it with all of his heart.  That vague sense of something being missing has disappeared and it leaves Reggie feeling nothing but happy and light and settled.

Bobby hugs him back.  “Sorry I didn’t text.  I figured you’d be here.”

“Literally, dude, you can show up anytime.  And even if I’m gone, you’ll always have someone to hang with.”  It’s then that Reggie remembers they’re not alone and he takes a step back, turning to find Willie watching them with an expression of the deepest amusement etched into his face.  Reggie goes red and Willie laughs, the fucking bastard.  “Oh, uh, yeah, I—me and Wills have the kids today.”

“Sick hair, man,” Bobby says, lifting his chin in greeting.

Willie grins, flipping one of his pigtails over his shoulder.  It’s tied off near his ear with a bright blue scrunchy while the other one sprouts out of the top of his head with a red rubber band.  There’s a sparkly butterfly clip keeping his bangs out of his face.  “Thanks!  Nova did it.”

Bobby nods thoughtfully.  “The biter.”

Impressed and a little bit amazed, Willie leans forward to slap Bobby on the shoulder.  “Yeah!  You’ve been paying attention, huh?”  Then he smirks.  “I’m sure you didn’t come down here to watch kiddie skating lessons, so if you need Reg for a sec, I think I can part with him.”

“If you’re sure you’ll be okay,” Bobby says cautiously, eyes going wide as Izzy rolls down the side of the pool like it’s a soft, grassy hill and lands in a heap amongst the spray paint and chalk drawings.  Unaffected, she bounces back to her feet and goes climbing up the concrete again, clearly set on another turn. 

“Yep!  Take your boy and get outta here.”

“Thanks, man,” Reggie says gratefully.  “I’ll be back quick, I promise.”

Because Reggie’s existence is a nightmare, Willie shoots him a wink.  “Hopefully not too quick.”

Reggie claps a hand over his eyes, groaning.  “God.  Fucking, just—we’re gonna go now.  We’re gonna go and you’re gonna rethink your life choices, shit.”

Willie just snickers, completely unrepentant.  Reggie expected nothing less.

“Uh, he seems nice,” Bobby says as he leads Reggie by the hand back around to the front of the motel.

“God,” Reggie says again.

The car that’s parked on the edge of the gravel lot is nowhere near as fancy as the one that picked them up from the gas station, is actually quite understated considering the status of its owner, but it still sticks out like a sore thumb among the dusty, twenty-year-old rustbuckets that fill the Sunset’s parking spaces.  David is in the front seat fiddling with the radio and when Reggie sends him a friendly peace sign, he haltingly does one back.  Reggie giggles, pleased.

Bobby reaches for the door to the backseat, then stops, nervously biting at his lip.  “I’ve got something I wanna show you, but I don’t know if you’ll be mad.”

He looks so genuinely worried, like there’s actually a universe in which Reggie might tell him to leave, might refuse to see him again, that Reggie melts.  He catches Bobby’s hand in his, giving him a squeeze.  “I won’t be,” he says, voice down low and comforting.  Like a secret.  “That’s not something you have to worry about.”

Bobby studies him for a few seconds before squaring his shoulders like he can physically shake the anxiety off them and yanking the car door open.  He disappears halfway inside for a moment or two and when he emerges there’s a guitar case in his hands.  Reggie watches with wide eyes and his breath caught in his throat as he clicks the latches and opens it, revealing a shiny, red bass, pristine and beautiful like it’s loved well enough to be taken care of. 

Reggie can’t talk.  He can’t.  He can’t even breathe, just staring at Bobby like he can’t comprehend what’s right in front of him.

It’s just as well because poor, nervous Bobby launches into a veritable monsoon of words, getting faster and faster as he explains, “I know how much you’ve always wanted to play bass and my dad has had this one lying around for years not even touching it, so I thought maybe you could use it?  It’s not a gift because I know you won’t take it, but I figured you could borrow it to practice and if you get good enough, maybe something can come of it?  Because you really shouldn’t have to write off the music thing just because of shitty luck when people who want it a whole lot less get to do whatever they want because of who their parents are…that—that’s not fair!  It’s not.  So I just—I don’t know if you want it or if this is annoying or—”

As Reggie keeps gaping at him like the stupidest goldfish in the aquarium, Bobby’s voice goes higher and more screechy and his body gets more and more tense until he looks poised to run away in embarrassment.  Reggie wants to cut in, wants to say something, anything, to express his gratitude and shock and just how deeply he appreciates it, but he knows the second he opens his mouth he’s going to burst into tears. 

So, rather than say anything at all, Reggie leaps forward, grabs Bobby by the face, and kisses him as hard as he can.  Bobby sags against him, his panicked commentary coming to an abrupt end, and holds Reggie around the waist as he kisses back.  It makes Reggie go a little weak in the knees, glad that Bobby is there to hold him up. 

When they pull back, Bobby swipes a stray lock of hair out of Reggie’s eyes with trembling fingers.  “God, you’re—you’re so pretty,” he breathes, going a bashful pink.  “So you like it?  You’re not mad?”

“What do you think?” Reggie somehow chokes out, scuffing the heel of his hand through the wetness that has gathered beneath one eye.  So much for not crying.

“Well, you never did answer me,” Bobby points out, but his nerves have been swapped out for a teasing lilt and a crooked grin that are so much better.

“Use context clues,” Reggie orders and then yanks him in to kiss him again. 

When they finally return to the pool out back, Willie is grinning at them knowingly.  “So much for quick,” he whispers to Reggie, knocking his shoulder into his, but Reggie just rolls his eyes instead of trying to defend himself.  It’s not his fault they had to transport a bass and an amp into his overfull closet and then make out against the wall for ten minutes.  That’s entirely and completely on Bobby for being so damn nice and beautiful.

As Reggie watches Bobby play with the kids for the rest of the afternoon, holding them steady as they skateboard along the cement and cheering when Quentin manages to make an entire lap of the pool without falling, Reggie is struck by how effortless it all seems.  Despite their major differences, Bobby fits seamlessly into their little ecosystem, their delicate balance.  He doesn’t invade, he comes alongside and assists.  He helps.

Bobby always helps.

“You’re in deep, dude,” Willie murmurs at one point, sidling up next to where Reggie is staring at Bobby with what has to be the most humiliatingly lovestruck look on his face. 

Reggie can’t even argue.  “Yeah, I think I am.”

“I’m happy for you,” Willie says, pressing a quick kiss to Reggie’s temple before running off to extract a piece of sidewalk chalk from Jack’s mouth.  Even his tiny teeth are purple.  Across the way, Bobby has Ezra on his shoulders, stomping around and pretending to be an angry giant, and Reggie can’t do anything but laugh helplessly.  Because he is in deep and maybe that should scare him, but it doesn’t. 

Not even a little bit.

-

“So when am I going to meet Carrie?” Reggie asks later that night as he’s walking Bobby out to his car.  “You’ve spent time with my family, I’d like to at least meet your sister if that’s cool.”

It makes Bobby break into a smile.  “You really want to?”

“Of course!  I could go back to your house sometime if you wanted me to.”  He quirks the corner of his mouth up, a little embarrassed when he thinks about the horrible night he almost got Bobby killed and then ran out on him like a coward.  “I promise not to freak out this time.”

But Bobby shakes his head.  “I’ve got a better idea,” he says, eyes crinkled with joy.  “And I know you’re gonna love it.”

“What is it?  Tell me!”

“You’ll find out,” is all Bobby will say and when Reggie tries to protest, Bobby kisses the words right off his lips.

Chapter Text

When the invitation comes in the mail, the entire motel goes up in shocked gasps and excited chattering.  The envelope gets passed from person to person, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the swirls of gold and the beautiful script of Reggie’s name on the front. 

When it finally makes it to Reggie, he tears it open and reads aloud, “On behalf of Mr. Robert Wilson, Rolling Meadows extends an invitation to Reggie Peters and his friends Julie, Flynn, Luke, Alex, and Willie for the Spring Celebration this Friday, May fifteenth.  RSVP, regrets only.”

Reggie’s mom plucks the letter from his hands, squinting down at it like she’s waiting for it to burst into flames.  “The country club?” she cries, voice high-pitched with disbelief.  “How the fuck did you of all people get an invite to the country club?”

Stomach rolling with annoyance, Reggie yanks it back, hugging it protectively to his chest.  “None of your fucking business,” he snaps, turning his back to her before she can try and start a fight.  He’s not letting her spoil his excitement. 

Summoned, as always, by Reggie’s shitty parents, Ray is suddenly at his side, clapping Reggie on the back.  “Congrats, kid,” he says, smile sincere and full of care.  It instantly makes Reggie relax, grinning up at him.  “You’ve been talking about finding a way in there for years and now they’re begging you to come!”

Reggie bounces on his toes, full of more energy than he knows what to do with.  “I always thought I’d have to break in after dark, but this is way better!”

Mrs. Patterson and Sheila make twin noises of disapproval, but Ray throws his head back and laughs.  “You always find a way, don’t you?”

“You know it!”

When Friday comes, Reggie and his friends spend the better part of an hour getting ready, trying to make themselves as presentable as Sunset kids can get.  Julie and Flynn look beautiful, in their nicest dresses and their hair done up on the top of their heads, courtesy of Lyla and about a thousand bobby pins.  Reggie and Alex are nothing compared to the girls, but they’ve done alright, dress shirts and clean shoes and all.  Luke and Willie, on the other hand, refuse to dress up for anyone, so they’re in ripped jeans and board shorts, respectively. 

“I’ll wear nice clothes to my wedding and my funeral,” Luke says firmly when Alex tries to force him into a t-shirt with sleeves.  “That’s it.”

“And I’ll wear nice clothes when those rich people at the club buy them for me,” Willie adds, arms folded resolutely across his chest.  “Which means it’s never happening.”

“Well, aren’t you two just a lovely pair of assholes!” Alex cries, throwing his hands in the air in irritation.  “Maybe you guys should date instead!”

Reggie sighs as he watches Luke and Willie grab at each other, making kissy noises with their lips barely a centimeter apart just to hear Alex screech at them.  “Guys,” he says pointedly, gesturing at the time on his phone.  “We’re going to be late!  So if you’re gonna kiss, do it, and then let’s go.”

“They’re gonna do no such thing,” Alex says, grabbing Willie around the waist from behind and yanking him away while Willie calls out a convincingly mournful I’ll wait for you, baby! that makes Luke go red.

Fucking hell.  At this rate, Reggie’s never going to see the inside of the country club and it’ll be all his friends’ fault.

Against all odds, they make it to the Meadows before the doors shut.  Reggie leads the way, careening up the fancy marble steps with his friends at his heels and digging his drivers’ license out of his pocket just in case they need to double check with the guest list.  Before he can even give the hostess his name, she pulls a walkie talkie off her hip and makes a few short commands, her eyes never leaving his.  She speaks quietly, but Reggie manages to catch enough words to know what’s going on.  She’s calling security.

Reggie’s heart sinks.

There’s two huge men flanking her within seconds.  “This is a closed party,” one of them says, tone allowing for no argument, not that Reggie would ever try.  “Invitation only.”

“Um, I do have an invitation,” Reggie says, cursing the way his voice shakes.  “I’m Reggie Peters, see?”  He holds his ID out.  “I should be on the list.  All of my friends, too.”

“Do you have your invitation with you?” the other guard asks, eyeing their ragtag group suspiciously.  It’s clear that whatever desperate measures they’ve taken to make themselves look respectable have fallen far short of country club standards.  Shit.

“No?  I didn’t know I needed to bring it.”

“Well, you do,” the hostess says, judgment in her gaze.  Distantly, Reggie wonders if she thinks her bullshit standards make her superior or like she has high ideals or something.  In reality, it just means she’s like everyone else.  “The club is for members and their guests.  We can’t let just anyone in here.”

Reggie goes up a step, face flaming red when the security guards move closer to the hostess like Reggie is planning on hurting her or something.  Honestly.  “Listen,” he pleads, trying to keep his voice calm.  “I’m here with—”

And then, blessedly, Bobby materializes at the top of the stairs like a leather-draped angel, handsome and waving cheerfully when he catches sight of them. 

“—him,” Reggie finishes, pointing over the guards’ shoulders at Bobby.

The look on the hostess’ face when she turns to see who’s waiting is one of the most gratifying things Reggie has ever witnessed.  Her eyes go huge and the color drains from her skin, probably fearing for her job when she stammers out, “M-Mr. Wilson!  I didn’t realize these were your guests.”

Bobby just shrugs, the brusque, jerky gesture in stark opposition to the air of sophistication the club is trying so dreadfully hard to give off.  Reggie smiles to himself.  “Yeah,” Bobby tells her.  “All of six of ‘em.  Is there a problem?”

Scrambling to hold onto her meager power, the hostess casts about for an excuse and settles on, “Unfortunately, they’ve arrived so late that there isn’t enough room for all of them.  Perhaps the plus-one you’d written down—”  She glances at her clipboard.  “—Reggie Peters, can join us tonight and the rest can come again some other time.”

Bobby, the guards, and the hostess all turn to look at Reggie at the same time, making his skin prickle from the attention.  He can practically feel his friends’ eyes on him from behind, drilling holes into his back as they wait to see what he’ll do. 

It isn’t a hard decision.  Reggie takes two steps down until he’s standing in between Julie and Alex, looking defiantly up at the hostess.  “That’s not gonna work,” he says and this time his voice is strong, no trace of his former nervousness.  They may be in a strange new world full of guest lists and marble buildings, but the rules will always be the same: you take care of your own and you don’t abandon them, either.  “We’re a package deal.”

Palpably relieved, the hostess gives them a smile that’s probably supposed to look sympathetic.  “That’s too bad.  Try again some other time, I guess.”

“You know what?” Bobby says, pushing past the guards to join the Sunset kids on the stairs.  He carefully keeps his back to the club so that they can’t see him wink at Reggie when he goes on, “I think I’m gonna get outta here, too.  I’ll call my dad and see if he can get us in somewhere else.  What’re you guys feeling?  Dinner reservations?”

At the mention of Trevor Wilson everything changes.  Suddenly, Rolling Meadows has plenty of room for however many people you want Robert oh there’s no need to call anyone please just give us a minute and we’ll get you all taken care of and is there anything else you need while we’re at it?  Reggie’s never seen anything like it.

The doors swing wide for them and Reggie can’t bite back a smirk as he follows Bobby into the building, holding the hostess’ gaze until she looks away first.  His friends aren’t any better – Flynn shows her middle finger to the guards as she passes, Alex throws his chin in the air like he’s several million dollars richer than he is, and Luke giggles behind his hands.

“You!” Luke cries, grabbing Bobby by the shoulders and shaking him a little.  “I like you!  I’m gonna keep you forever.”

Bobby laughs.  “Would you believe me if I said that’s the first time I’ve ever pulled the Dad-card?”

Luke tilts his head to the side, sizing him up, and then decides, “Yeah, actually.  But you can keep pulling it if it benefits me.”

“Deal.”

As they make their way to their table, Reggie cements himself to Bobby’s side with an arm around his waist and whispers, “Thanks for coming to the rescue, dude.  My friends are tough, but they would’ve been really upset if we’d been sent away.”

Bobby leans over to kiss Reggie on the forehead, the warm press of lips making him shiver.  “It’s no problem.  They shouldn’t treat you like that.”

“Doesn’t stop most people.”

“It should.”

The country club isn’t quite as opulent as Reggie had always daydreamed about, but it is filled with women in fancy dresses, tiny little sandwiches, and more golf clubs than he can count.  The ceilings are almost dizzyingly high and the food table is bigger than Reggie’s room back home, lined with a vast array of dishes Reggie has never heard of before.  He and his friends fill their plates immediately, ecstatic to eat food that has never seen the inside of a cooler or a minifridge.  Bobby watches them with amusement, pointing out the gross things they should avoid, like fish eggs and baby eels. 

Later, he gives them a tour of the place, raising his eyebrows at every security guard they pass as if daring them to say anything.  They never do, not even when Reggie and his friends make a ruckus and generally misbehave.  Luke and Willie fill their pockets with the fancy soaps from the bathroom and Julie and Flynn take pictures posing with the expensive statues and Alex dances around the fountain out back, twirling this way and that and then flinging himself into the air for Reggie and Bobby to catch. 

“Is it everything you ever dreamed?” Bobby asks later when they’ve split off by themselves, leaning against the railing of the deck that looks out over a pond.  Crickets chirp and frogs croak into the darkness of the night, giving everything an aura of serenity.  “All this fancy bullshit?”

“I don’t know,” Reggie says, feigning disappointment.  “Not quite.”

Bobby straightens up.  “What?  What’s missing?”

Reggie makes a face.  “You promised me boat orgies.”

Bobby stares at him for a few seconds before he bursts out laughing, so overcome with giggles he has to bury his face in his arms.  “You got me there for a second,” he wheezes, clutching onto the railing so he doesn’t fall over.  “I did promise that, didn’t I?”

“You did!” Reggie says, grinning proudly as Bobby gasps for air.  “You said they happen every night, so where the fuck are they?”

“I think you have to pay extra for those.”

“Well, cough it up, man!  Are you a Wilson or aren’t you?”

Before Bobby can answer, the back door busts open and Reggie’s friends stagger out, arms around each other’s shoulders and singing along to whatever song is playing over the loudspeaker.  Julie blows Reggie and Bobby a kiss, waiting expectantly until Reggie catches it out of midair and smushes it to first his cheek and then to Bobby’s.  She smiles, satisfied, and calls back, “We’re gonna go find a golfcart, don’t wait up!”

“Idiots,” Reggie mutters fondly, rolling his eyes.  “They’re gonna crash that thing.”

Bobby snorts.  “Probably.”  He shakes his head, grinning.  “I like your friends a lot, Reggie.  They’re really cool.”

“I’m glad you like them,” Reggie tells him, then he looks down at his feet, suddenly serious.  Despite the glittering strings of lights and the noise and the good food, he hasn’t quite been able to shake off what happened at the front door.  It’s burrowed deep inside him, gotten under his skin, and he needs to tell Bobby how he feels.  “Because I need you to understand, okay?  If it ever comes down to it, if I’m ever made to choose between you and them, I’m—”  He forces himself to look up, right into Bobby’s beautiful dark eyes.  “I’m not gonna leave them.  And I need you to be okay with that.”

It’s more aggressive than Reggie usually gets and his heart is pounding at his own boldness, but to his relief, Bobby slings an arm around his shoulders, offering him a knowing smile.  “I know that,” he says, “and it doesn’t bother me.  That’s good anyway, isn’t it?  To be loyal like that.”  He shrugs.  “Besides, that’s not a choice I’d ever ask you to make.”

Reggie lets all the air out of his lungs in one huge gush.  “Okay,” he says, nodding.  “Okay, thanks.”

“C’mere, dude,” Bobby says warmly, pulling Reggie in until he’s pressed up against him.  Then they’re kissing, under the stars yet again.  Right here, right now, as a warm breeze blows through their hair and Bobby makes a happy sound into Reggie’s mouth, it’s hard not to feel like the nighttime belongs to them.  Like every time the moon rises, it’s waiting for them to rise too, young love and tender touches.  Reggie tangles his fingers into Bobby’s hair.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” a voice says, breaking through the fog of Bobby Bobby Bobby that’s filled Reggie’s brain.  They spring apart, shocked.  “I should’ve known you’d be out here macking on someone.”

The voice belongs to a teenaged girl, one perfect eyebrow raised and her toe tapping impatiently in her high heels.  Bobby clears his throat at the sight of her, flinging an arm out toward her and announcing, “The woman of the hour, everyone.”

Reggie perks up.  “Carrie!  Right?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”  She unabashedly looks him up and down, like she’s trying to figure out whether he’s worth her time.  It makes him snap to attention, her gaze powerful and heavy.  It’s all he can do not to squirm.  “And you must be the boyfriend.”

“Um.”  Reggie glances uncertainly over at Bobby.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bobby agrees, smiling so big his eyes squint up.  “My boyfriend.”

“Ugh, forget I asked,” Carrie says, wrinkling her nose in disgust, but Reggie is too busy linking his fingers together with Bobby’s – with his boyfriend’s! – to worry about it.  He never wants to let go.  “You guys are gross.”

Carrie, it turns out, is kind of a bitch, thoroughly unimpressed with both the club and her older brother.  She answers every question or comment with eye rolls and sarcasm, popping her gum loudly and tapping her long, manicured nails on the tabletop.  The only time she shows the slightest bit of interest is when Reggie, because he’s a good fucking friend, drops Flynn’s name into the conversation.  Something tells him that Carrie would actually be perfect for Flynn, since he can’t imagine a world in which the suggestion of love would do anything but make her gag. 

Someone for everyone and all that.

Miracle of all miracles, Reggie’s friends don’t crash the golfcart.  In fact, they make it back to the club grounds in one piece, though Alex keeps coughing up a lung, claiming he swallowed a bug.  It’s to the background music of hacking coughs, irreverent whoops, and obnoxious snickers that Reggie pushes up onto his tiptoes and kisses Bobby for the first time since officially becoming boyfriends.  Somehow it feels even better than all the times before.

“Thank you for this,” he says as he pulls back.  “This really meant a lot to me.  To all of us, really.  This was a perfect night.”

Bobby blushes, awkward as ever in the face of praise and gratitude.  “It’s no big deal.  I’m sorry about what happened at the door.  I wish they would’ve just—”

“They don’t matter,” Reggie cuts in, waving a hand dismissively.  “The best thing to do with assholes is forget about them.  They fucking hate it.”

“You’re pretty damn smart, you know that?”

“I’ve been saying!” Reggie laughs, shoving at Bobby’s shoulder.  “No one ever believes me!”  Then, because on rare occasions even Reggie can remember to be a gentleman, he offers, “Hey, listen, do you want me to drop you and Carrie off at home?  It’s gotta beat waiting around for a car.”

A flicker of something like panic flits through Bobby’s eyes before he carefully masks it again.  “Oh no, you don’t have to do that,” he says quickly.  “I’m just gonna text David.  Don’t worry about it.”

“Bobby,” Reggie says slowly, everything falling into place with a rush of understanding.  He puts his index finger beneath Bobby’s chin and pushes until Bobby is forced to look up at him.  “Stop trying to keep me away from your house.  I told you, I’m not gonna freak out, okay?  If you think there’s even the tiniest possibility that I’m gonna run away again, you’re crazy.”  He smiles a little.  “Things are different now.”

Cheeks pink, Bobby squeezes his eyes shut so Reggie can’t see him.  “You sure?”

“Positive.  Now stop being a baby about it and invite me over, dammit.”

It shocks a laugh out of Bobby, listing forward to put his forehead on Reggie’s shoulder.  “Fine, fine, you win.  How about tomorrow?”

“Perfect,” Reggie says, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Bobby’s back.  “I’ll be there bright and early.”

-

It’s plenty bright when Reggie finally heads to Bobby’s house, though it isn’t early by any stretch of the imagination. 

Getting out of the motel had been nearly impossible, his friends and even their parents buzzing around him like overloaded electrical wires.  They wanted him to take pictures and count bathrooms and find out if the Wilsons have original paintings by famous artists, but Reggie hadn’t made any promises.  There’ll be plenty of time for that later, but for now it’s kind of exciting to have something for himself.  Something with just Bobby.

This time when Reggie walks into the huge mansion, his beat up sneakers scuffing on the shiny floor, he doesn’t shrink away or shake or start to look for the exits.  This time he just stares, up at the sparkling chandelier in the foyer and the huge marble pillars that reach toward heaven.  He’d spent the past seventeen years thinking that Rolling Meadows was as good as it gets, but Bobby’s house is beyond even that.  It’s a lot to take in.

As Reggie gawks at everything he missed before, back when he was blinded by self-loathing and the pain in his ankle, Bobby hunches over, embarrassed.  “A little much for three people, huh?” he mutters.  “My dad likes to look important.  Like it’s gonna make people actually give a shit.”

“I give a shit,” Reggie says honestly.  “But not because of this.” 

Bobby’s mouth opens and closes a few times like he’s trying to find his voice, but in the end he just pulls Reggie close and hugs him tight, forgoing words altogether.  It’s fine – Reggie doesn’t need him to say it.  He knows what he means.

They start the tour up on the third floor, racing up a few winding staircases with wide banisters just begging to be slid down until they reach a set of double doors.  “This is the best room in the house,” Bobby tells him, eyes never leaving Reggie’s as he grabs out clumsily for the doorhandles.  He’s more excited than Reggie has ever seen him, practically vibrating with it.  “I’ve wanted to show it to you pretty much the entire time I’ve known you.”

It sends a thrill through Reggie’s body, anticipation sparking at his skin.  He gives a stupid little hop because he can’t help it.  “Okay, okay, open it!  Lemme see!”

At long last, Bobby finally catches hold of the handles and yanks the giant doors open with a wooden creak and a quiet ta-dah! that makes Reggie giggle.  As soon as he sees what’s inside, the laughter dies in his throat.

“No way!” he gasps, racing into the room and spinning in the middle of the floor so he can look at all of it at once.  He doesn’t want to miss a thing, eyes huge and smile a mile wide.   

Because it’s a music room.  Or, more accurately, a music hall, the walls papered with band posters and framed sheet music and the ceiling covered with acoustic panels for the best sound quality.  There’s a shiny grand piano in the middle of the carpet, a drum set in one corner, and guitars and violins and brass instruments lining the perimeter of the room, propped up proudly in their stands.  One stand is empty, conspicuous among the well-polished guitars.  Reggie can’t help but blush, feeling warm from the inside out.

When Bobby sees what he’s looking at, he nods.  “Your bass, yeah.”

“This is so cool!” Reggie nearly screeches, whirling to look at Bobby.  “Are these all yours?”

“My dad’s, mostly.  That one’s mine, though.”  Bobby gestures at the electric guitar at the end of the line, the same color red as Reggie’s bass and not quite as immaculate as its neighbors.  He clearly uses it a lot, a thought that makes Reggie feel fuzzy and happy.  No matter what else fails you, music is always a good companion.

“Luke would absolutely flip if he saw this!” Reggie says, running reverent fingers over a couple keys on the grand.  The notes ring out rich and perfectly in tune.  “Seriously, he’d probably cry.  Julie and Alex, too.  We’d have to drag them back home kicking and screaming.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Bobby says, suddenly shy again.  He chews on his bottom lip.  “If they ever wanna, like, come over and jam, that’s totally cool?  Like, that’s definitely something they could do.  You know, just if they wanted to.”

Reggie snorts.  “Yeah, there’s no way in hell they’d ever turn that down.”  Then he grabs at Bobby’s sleeve, swinging his arm gently back and forth.  “Thanks, man.  For bringing me here and for everything else, too.”

“Do you wanna call them over?  My dad’s still gone, so it’s not like they’d be bothering anyone.”

But Reggie only smirks.  “Not today.”  He loops his arms around the back of Bobby’s neck until they’re standing face to face, only a few inches apart.  “Today you’re gonna kiss me in every room in this mansion.”

Bobby’s breath audibly hitches, his eyes flicking down to Reggie’s mouth before he swallows hard.  He whispers, “Bro, there are so many rooms in this house.”

“I’m counting on it.”

Then he lurches forward to steal a quick kiss, snickering and throwing a triumphant fist in the air as he races away.  He almost falls as he careens out into the hallway, graceless on his feet as usual, but then Bobby is there, wrapping a strong hand around his bicep and hauling him up before he can brain himself. 

“God, be careful!” he cries, voice full of laughter.  “What’re you gonna do when I’m not here to catch you?”

“Like that’s ever gonna happen!”

As they run down the halls, throwing doors open just to kiss against them, laughter bounces off the walls and their shoes slap against the hardwood, making the quiet, still house echo with sound.  It’s practically thunderous, almost reminiscent of the chaos of the Sunset.  Nothing this vibrant and alive could ever be cold – no, it’s blazing like the sun. 

Bobby must feel it, too, because when he pulls away from a particularly desperate kiss, his mouth is trembling and his eyes are wet. 

“What are you thinking about?” Reggie asks gently, smudging a thumb over Bobby’s bottom lip.

“The sadness stops here, too,” is all he says and then they’re off again, hand in hand, to bring the world to life.