This highschool-AU fic includes: Fluff; Slight Angst; Bittersweet Ending; Umbrellas; Minor Religious Guilt; Implied/Referenced Homophobia; Undefined Relationship
The first time Otto met Awsten was when he was 16. Well, he’d known he existed; he’d gone to school with Knight since he moved to Otto’s town, but they were in vastly different social circles.
He only actually talked to him for the first time on the 26th of August. It was raining hard, and water was pelting down on his hoodie and soaking him to the bone. As always, he had forgotten an umbrella.
“Hey! Dude! Get over here! You’re gonna freeze to death or something.” Awsten was dressed in an old red raincoat, holding a bright orange-and-yellow striped umbrella. His jeans were a bright blue, barely muted by the clouds and rain, and his shoes were ratty and worn, but still so red that they nearly burned Otto’s eyes off.
He was the definition of annoying.
Yet, when he was offered a spot under his umbrella, Otto took it. He tried to tell himself that the only reason he did it was because he didn’t want to get hypothermia. Which was true. He will admit though, that maybe, something about all that too-bright color was intriguing.
Awsten made a stupid joke about his shoes, a pair of ratty old Doc Martens, and Otto responded by staring, expressionless, and holding up his middle finger. Awsten laughed like he’d made a joke that was worth finding funny.
It rained all week, and Otto forgot his umbrella all week too. And Awsten, he found out, just so happened to live only a block away. He never forgot his umbrella.
Going to the winter dance in a group of three is possibly the worst idea Otto has ever had. It only took half an hour before both of his friends broke off to do God knows what. He certainly didn’t want to know.
Awsten stumbles on him standing alone at the punch bowl, looking the worst he’s ever seen him. He lets out a breath and waves to Otto before grabbing two cups of punch. He walks them over to a girl with short blonde hair standing a little ways away, but she just turns away and storms off with a glare.
It doesn’t take very long after that before he’s back over by the snacks with an extra cup in hand. He slides down the wall to join Otto sitting on the floor. His head falls against the paneling with a hollow thump.
“Hey,” Awsten says, obviously exhausted, “What’s up with you? Or do you just like spending your time sitting here like a loser?”
“You can’t talk when you just got stood up,” Otto returns him sharply.
“Dude. That’s so cold. You’re so mean to me. I’m truly wounded right now.” He’s smiling tiredly.
“Who was she?” He doesn't know why he asks, but something makes him want to know.
“Grace. We've been friends for years, man. She’d been crushing on me since we were like thirteen. Turns out that when she asked to go to the dance, she didn’t mean as friends. Ha. Who’d have known?”
Otto settles on saying, “I’m sorry,” and rests a hand against his shoulder. He startles and opens his mouth to say something, but seems to decide against it. Awsten’s hand finds his against his shoulder and rests over it for just a little too long.
They hide away there until the dance ends and the PE coach kicks them out. Awsten is half asleep against his shoulder by then.
Over spring break Otto takes it upon himself to teach Awsten how to skateboard. He buys him a cheap Walmart skateboard that he has to duct-tape back together within the first hour of using it.
To get him back Awsten makes him watch bad rom-coms and cheesy horror movies with him every damn night. Otto laughs at all the wrong parts and makes fun of them to all hell and back. Awsten glares at him, and then he hits him on the back of the head with the DVD case.
Awsten gets dragged to Easter church, and he grumbles the whole way about having to wear a suit. He doesn’t even know how to tie a tie, and Otto has to do it for him. It’s not like Otto can just skip church - not when his dad is the pastor and his brother runs the youth group.
The cross around his neck hangs heavy and silent and judgmental when he stares at Awsten for just a little too long while everyone is paying attention to the little kids during the egg hunt. A leaf falls directly into his hair, and Otto picks it out quietly.
Awsten’s eyes fall on his. Otto swallow. His throat feels thick. Awsten’s hand grazes his, and he pretends to ignore it. He will not hold a boy’s hand here. Not with his dad close enough to glance over and see, not with half the town gathered right there. There are already enough rumors.
That summer is spent with him and Awsten making the most of it. Otto gets a shitty job at the gas station, and he shows up every few hours just to bug him until he gets off work. Both of them stay up too late and never wake up earlier than ten.
Awsten plays the guitar with him and sings bad covers and Otto plays all his cheesy hipster vinyl for him to sing along to. Awsten finds a dollar in the gutter, and a couple of minutes later they have two bottles of lemon-flavored soda water.
Awsten’s smile right then is all dimples; It’s pure, unfiltered happiness. He’s still wearing his stupid red-tinted sunglasses, even though the only nearby light is the neons of signs. Otto races him back to his house and sneaks in through the back door so they don’t wake any parents up.
He grabs some random chick-flick from the stack of DVDs by the door, and Otto can’t help but raise his eyebrow in judgment. They stifle laughter at the stupid expression and by the end, they’re wrestling on the floor, banging knees into the carpet and elbows into the desk.
They wake up back to back, as far apart as the old, twin-size bed will allow. Awsten takes way too long shaving with the bathroom locked just to annoy Otto, and he sits right outside the door yelling at him in retaliation.
They spend the next week flip-flopping between whose house they stay at, whose sister they annoy, and whose parents they terrorize with late-night laughing and off-key harmonizing.
When Otto was a kid, it was all he’d ever wanted to do to escape this place. Small towns where everyone knew everyone was his worst nightmare, and one he had to live. Now though, now that everyone expects him to get up and leave, he doesn't know if he even wants to.
Sure, it’s hard, but at least the people here know him. They don’t bother him or have hope that he’ll ever be more than he is, not anymore. If he moved, that wouldn’t be a thing.
Besides, he’s done too much here to just give up and move on. He’s grown too attached to it; this place that is his home. It’s all summer rain and chirping cicadas and home. It’s all shimmery and green and the summer is hot beyond belief. But it’s his.
Awsten kisses him in the park, once they’ve made sure no one is around. They kiss late at night, and he still tastes like stale soda and take-out pizza. They kiss when the sun is down, when watchful eyes have gone to sleep and the only thing that can see them is the moon.
The school year is beyond busy. He spends as much time as he possibly can with Awsten. His shitty band broke up and he bitches about it constantly. Everyone is leaving for college, except him.
Otto has no plans for what he’s gonna do after this. Everyone he knows has at least an inkling. All of them except Awsten. He’s in the same boat.
And then, he’s not. And then, Awsten is moving to LA to go hit it big. It hits Otto like a goddamn truck. Those stupid nights together, those times away from others where they can hold hands and be close and no one looks at them wrong? They won’t be a thing anymore.
Otto guesses he might not have a problem with leaving this place - not like he does. He doesn’t have a home here. He has a prison and not a muse.
He’s going to California, across the country, a million miles away. And all Otto wants to do is cry. He stares at the porch in front of him, the ground at their feet. Awsten came over to his house, three weeks after graduation, and told him there, standing on his porch.
The sun was burning hot across Otto’s face, even through the small porch overhang. Awsten has on the same shoes he had two years ago. Ratty, old, red Converse that are falling apart at the seams now more than ever. He looks down at his own feet: clad in a pair of plain black socks. One has a hole in the big toe, and the other is worn down on the heel.
His Doc Martens, standing by the door with new, purple laces. A graduation gift.
“Look, Otto, I’m sorry. I- I just can’t stay here, ok? This girl offered to let me stay at her place and look, don't ask, it's complicated ok, but, Otto, I just can’t stay here.” Awsten is stumbling over words. He never stumbles over words.
“It’s alright. I get it. Go... do you, I guess,” He musters out. Awsten stares at him. He looks like he might cry, which, in all the months they’ve spent together, is probably the one thing Otto hasn’t seen him do. He turns around and starts to walk off. Otto feels his throat close up on itself. Shit. He loves him. He loves Awsten.
“I love you.” He says, knowing now is not the time to say it. He knows it’s too late. He knows he cannot force Awsten to stay in the town that hurts him. He also knows he’ll forever regret it if he never says it.
Awsten falters on his way off the step. Neither of them has said the L word yet, not even as friends. It felt too real.
“I love you, too,” He whispers, and Otto can just barely hear it. Later that night, he questioned whether he actually said it or if he just imagined it.
The next time it rains Awsten isn’t there to remind him to take his umbrella, but he never forgets. Not anymore.