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runningonmarvel · 6 years ago

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be my valentine ch. 2

@you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus second chapter of the Valentine’s Day exchange fic!!

A/N: takes place the two weeks before Valentine’s Day in their junior year. wonah. bandi. tyrus. a few curses. unedited but enjoy!!

Chapter 2: Hey, My Love

You've walked out a hundred times

How was I supposed to know this time

Jonah has been to seven concerts in high school, and the only one he really cared about was Harry Styles with Andi freshman year. Last year, during a period of time when he and Andi were actually getting along well, Andi had come to him begging him to accompany her to the King Princess concert. By the time the concert arrived, though, they were “taking a break” again, and Andi took Amber instead.

Jonah had gotten attached, though, to one song from her: Talia. That was the song stuck in his head while he strummed the guitar on Tuesday afternoon in the Red Rooster. It reminded him of the disaster of his relationship with Andi, but it made him think, more than that, of the new feelings he had.

“Earth to Jonah?” He snapped his neck up, bent over the guitar, and adjusted his fingers in the frets. Bowie was staring across at him, suspicious of his lack of focus.

“Ah, sorry. I’ll try again,” Jonah says, trying to shake the prior thoughts out of his head. He aligns his fingers for the first chord and goes to play, but Bowie shakes his head.

“No, let’s finish for today. You’ve worked hard, and I figure you need a break.”

Jonah nods and puts the guitar up on the stand. A text from his mom tells him that she won’t be there for another half an hour, so Jonah goes to browse through the records. A early memory of a time with Andi flickers in his mind, but he shuts it out. Every place in Shadyside, every school hall and bike path and storefront, has some memory of Andi and him. It’s impossible.

As he drums his fingers over the stacks of records, Jonah allows the new feeling to wash over his mind. A crush, a crush, a crush, is the heartbeat in his head. He feels guilty, even though he and Andi have been permanently apart for four months. Is he allowed to like someone else? After a relationship that lasted nearly four years, on and off?

And what makes it worse is who the person is. Because in a cruel twist of fate, the universe blessed him with feelings for the one person in the world Andi might be truly hurt to see him with.

Freaking Walker Brodsky.

Walker.

Walker!

The one Andi went on a couple dates with. The one Andi left so she could be completely with Jonah. The one Jonah hung out sporadically over the years until Andi and Buffy basically wrote him out of their friend group. The one Jonah in the past couple months has been hanging out with and texting. The one he now has an unfortunate, overwhelming, obvious crush on.

Jonah picks up a record and squints at it: a love song. Great.

“Hey Jonah, do you need a ride home?” Bowie steps into his line of vision and smiles at him.

“No, thank you my mom’s coming, I’m just going to look at the records for a bit. Maybe shop.”

Bowie nods and returns to the register where he empties the tip jar slowly. It occurs to Jonah suddenly that Bowie has never once acted strange since Andi and Jonah’s final breakup. He’s been the same eclectic, guitar-teaching Bowie the whole time, which is odd. Jonah knows the Macks to be a family where emotions run high.

He walks to the pick shelf, where several higher-end designs stick out to him. His mom would probably say it’s stupid to spend money on a better-looking plastic triangle; but then again, his mom would say a lot of things are stupid. Like Jonah being upset over Andi. Like Jonah having a crush on a boy.

He glances down at his phone: no new messages from his mom. So he picks out the best-looking pick from the shelf—nine dollars for the unique design—and takes it to the register. Bowie looks up as he places a crumpled twenty on the counter and pushes both items towards him.

“Splurging for a new pick?” Bowie asks, ringing it up.

“Seems worth it.” Bowie wraps the pick and hands him his change, then considers him for a moment.

“Jonah, would you… would you ever be interested in working here?”

Silence engulfs the store for a moment as Jonah processes that.

“Working here? As in… ringing up customers, organizing records, polishing guitars?” Already, Jonah has an answer in his head: yes. He needs a job if he’s ever going to be able to get out from under his mom’s harsh influence. And he loves the guitar shop because it makes him feel safer than most other places. Andi’s apartment and room used to be his safe space, when they were on good terms. But not anymore.

“Yes, exactly. I mean, you’re almost 17, right. A job would be nice, and we have lots of room for a spot.” Bowie leans back against the wall. “Plus you’d get to clean and fix guitars all day while listening to music. Good music.”

“Thank you! I—I’ll ask my mom about it tonight, and I’ll get back to you tomorrow.” Jonah doesn’t know how he’ll broach the subject with his mother, not without her yelling at him about irresponsibility and disappointment. He takes the packaged pick and slips it in his pocket with the change. A job would be so nice, and it would mean he could escape the house more often. Stay out late after work and hang out with Walker. Avoid his mom.

Jonah hates that that’s the thought in his head, but it is.

He sits back down on the lesson couch and is about to pick up a music magazine when Bowie sits down across from him. “Jonah, I’ve been meaning to ask. How are things going with you and Andi?”

Jonah stares. He stares, and then he swallows down an outburst. “Bowie, we—we broke up four months ago.” Jonah doesn’t know if Andi didn’t tell Bowie or if Bowie simply forgot, but the shock on his face suggests the former.

“You broke up?” “Yes, sir. We were off and on for a long time and finally she—we both decided it was time to put a final end to it. We’ve always been better off as friends but afraid to acknowledge it,” Jonah says carefully. He fiddles with the pick in his pocket, twisting it over and back four times.

“Jonah, I had no idea,” Bowie says. “Andi, she—“ he cuts off, stands up, and walks to the register. Jonah can see his mind processing as he blinks several times with his whole face and messes with the cash register drawer.

“Didn’t tell you?” Jonah asks softly, then regrets it. No response from Bowie, who looks like a lost puppy. Jonah starts to feel bad that he’s been left out from this crucial piece of Andi’s life, because Bex surely knows about it. That’s why Jonah has been avoiding Cloud 10 for months: fear of Bex and Cece.

It occurs to Jonah now that Bowie may be angry with him. May not want to give lessons to his daughter’s very permanent ex. May not want to give him a job. That last one is the killer; if Andi loses him this job then her curse on his life in Shadyside will be complete.

“Why did you break up, exactly?” Bowie asks, once he’s regained a bit of composure. Jonah nods, and then tries to explain.

“Andi and I have always been close friends, and while we were dating bad things usually happened because of our feelings for each other. We created drama or hurt ourselves somehow. It wasn’t meant to be, or at least it wasn’t meant to be romantic. We just didn’t work out.” Jonah finishes, feeling like he’s explained it well. He doesn’t add in the part about Andi being distant the last six months of their relationship, and he definitely leaves out the part about Jonah realizing his own bisexuality and dual attraction to boys as he was dating Andi.

Instead of responding, Bowie just nods. And he keeps nodding, obviously upset, until Jonah’s mom arrives in her truck and honks the horn several time. He waves goodbye, but gets nothing in return from the Bowie lost in his thoughts. Before Jonah leaves, though, he walks through the record section one more time and returns back to the section where he found the love song earlier. He searches through the old love songs until he finds Be My Baby by the Ronettes. Dragging his fingers over the rough record slip, Jonah thinks about the various songs he’s written about Andi over the years. The first one was here, on the stage over to the right, back in simpler days.

Jonah slides the record back into the stacks and walks towards the door. It’s time to let past things end; he can’t keep being haunted by the memory of Andi. His feelings have already moved on, leaving only guilt and the finality of breakup behind. How is he supposed to fall for someone else when this entire town used to belong to him and Andi? Still, as he exits the Red Rooster, an idea starts to form in his head.

An idea that would show his crush and himself that he was over Andi. An idea that would say, with no regrets: I like you, Walker Brodsky. No one else.

That you wouldn't call

That you wouldn't come home

————

On Wednesday morning, Cyrus is tired and already over the week. He was up late last night talking to TJ, then realized he’d forgotten to do his Bio homework. So after scrawling down some answers about mitosis and phases, Cyrus had fallen into a fitful sleep which hadn’t lasted over six hours.

Andi and Buffy are nowhere to be found before homeroom, so Cyrus goes to his locker alone. TJ has math tutoring on Wednesday mornings, so he won’t miss basketball practice in the afternoons, and he usually arrives just in time for homeroom. Meaning Cyrus is alone. He could look for Jonah, but Jonah has been disappearing in the mornings as of late.

When he arrives at his locker, though, Cyrus stops and blinks twice. Tied between the holes in the blue metal and dangling against the locker is a pair of bright green roller skates.

Roller skates?

Cyrus looks around, thinking maybe someone conveniently dropped their roller derby or Wednesday night skate shoes on his locker. But it’s early, and the hallways are mostly empty. So Cyrus approaches the shoes carefully, lifting one up to inspect it.

Not only are they bright green, his favorite color, but there are tiny dinosaur stickers stuck all across the plastic shoe. He gives the wheels a loose spin, determining that they’re aesthetically pleasing but not necessarily the most supportive nor safe pair of skates. Still, Cyrus stares down at them. They’re clearly for him, but who would leave him roller skates? Andi and Buffy?

“Hello?” Cyrus calls down the hall, just in case anyone left them and tried to run away. Iris looks up and waves at him from where she was gazing at her phone intensely. He nods at her, distracted; it couldn’t have been Iris. They barely speak except in history class, and somehow Iris has become better friends with Andi than Cyrus.

When no one else responds, Cyrus looks back down at the roller skates. Several memories flash in his mind, of skating with the Good Hair Crew when they were younger, of learning to actually skate with TJ, of Andi’s roller-skating birthday a few years ago. Cyrus knows how to skate—right? And if the skates are here, then he should probably wear them—right? Feeling slightly like an idiot, Cyrus unties the skates from his locker and slides his feet into the left, and then the right. He holds onto the locker as he tries not to slip. The hallway is completely empty now; Iris has run off somewhere. So Cyrus gets his balance while gripping the locker, inhales slowly, and remembers when TJ taught him to skate.

Distribute your weight evenly over the sole so you won’t fall over immediately. Use the brake if you need it, but you need it way less than you think you do. Skate in strides, like walking. Focus, and keep breathing. Your instincts will kick in.

Cyrus focuses, and he steps away from the locker. Stride left, stride right. And then the instincts take over, just like TJ told him they would. Cyrus is flying over the linoleum tiles, and he catches his breath. He can do this. He can do this. He can—

As the wheel catches on a stray book left in the hallway, another memory comes back to Cyrus: Jonah Beck trying to teach him to skateboard.

Cyrus feels his legs flailing beneath him as the wheels slide backwards. His knees hit the floor in a second. The ground has nearly reached his face when he feels an arm around his stomach stop the fall, pull him backwards, and leave him standing straight up.

“Cyrus?” He relaxes, realizing who it is.

“TJ!” Cyrus tries to spin in a circle, but he nearly slips again. TJ puts one steady arm around his waist and the other on his arm so he won’t fall. “Thanks for catching me,” Cyrus says sheepishly.

“I’m always there to catch you, Cy—but what’s with the roller skates? Joining roller derby?” TJ looks genuinely confused, his eyebrows drawn together in concern and his lips slightly pursed.

“Um. I don’t know who left them, but they were there. So yeah, I decided to try them out,” Cyrus says, which sounds like a bad explanation but is the truth.

“Okay, well, are you going to skate to homeroom now?” TJ asks, adjusting his math books under his arm.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Cyrus says. Over TJ’s shoulder he sees Buffy walking down the hallway, without Andi or Jonah. He waves, and she waves back, eyebrows raised at the skates. He leans forward, and feels his knees protest. “Nope, that’s not gonna work. I think I’ve broken my knees.”

Concerned, TJ glances at Cyrus’s legs. “Aw, Cy, you’ve got bruises all over. You’ve got to go the nurse.”

“I’ll take him!” Buffy chirps, reaching out to take Cyrus’s hand.

TJ stops her for a moment, pulls Cyrus back into a kiss, and then pushes him into Buffy’s arms. “Take good care of him, Driscoll.”

Buffy rolls her eyes. “I always do.” She takes Cyrus by the arm, positions him in front of her, and holds tight to his arms. “Let’s go, Goodman.”

Cyrus giggles, then shuts his mouth. “Did you leave these? Did Andi?”

Buffy shakes her head, and Cyrus considers that. She could be pretending, but both she and TJ had seemed genuinely shocked by the appearance of electric green roller skates on his feet. Strange.

Buffy manages to push him all the way to the nurse, then runs off to homeroom once he’s situated soundly in a waiting chair. After unlacing the skates and tying together the laces, Cyrus places them in his lap and settles back into the chair. His knees are bruised and aching as he waits, but he’s still warm inside from TJ’s kiss.

Suddenly, Cyrus hears someone slide into the seat next to him. He looks up to see Walker, who he hasn’t seen in months.

“Cyrus, hey,” Walker says. He rubs the back of his neck, and his eyes look tired. Cyrus waits, but Walker remains on the edge of his seat, meaning he’s here with a purpose. “Listen, I have a strange question.”

“Okay…” Cyrus says, running one hand over the plastic surface of the skates. “First—how are you? We haven’t talked in a while.” Walker nods. “Busy. I’ve got a big studio project due next Friday, and I want it to be part of my portfolio. How’s everyone?”

Swallowing Cyrus tugs on the laces of the skates. He knows that when Buffy ended things with Walker, he basically lost his main friend group. Walker and Amber seem to hang out a lot, but Amber almost never mentions him. There’s Natalie and Archie in Walker’s studio class, who Cyrus thinks he’s friends with. But he doesn’t know how Walker’s doing, not really.

“They’re fine. The usual.” “Yeah. Um, the question is—it’s—“ Walker stops himself, and Cyrus can hear the nervous beat of his foot against the tile. “Do you know if Jonah likes boys?”

Cyrus closes a hand around the knot on the laces. He’s suddenly aware of the heartbeat in his chest—did Walker just come out to him? No. But still—

“I’m not sure. He’s never said he has, you know—“ “Yeah, okay,” Walker says, and Cyrus hears the hitch in his breath as he gets to his feet.

“Walker, wait. He hasn’t said it, but neither had TJ the whole time I knew him. I thought he was the most heterosexual boy on the planet until he randomly came out to me. The point is—we don’t know,” Cyrus says, almost all in one breath.

Walker is silent.

“And,” Cyrus says, “Jonah is one of the most accepting people I know. He’ll be completely chill about it, I promise.”

“Okay.” Walker looks worried, and Cyrus remembers a similar feeling a year and a half ago when he was worrying if TJ would stop being friends with him if Cyrus admitted his crush. The anxiety had been real and consuming; every time Cyrus was with TJ, there was a voice in his head screaming: YOU HAVE A CRUSH YOU HAVE A CRUSH YOU HAVE A CRUSH. Cyrus understands.

“I didn’t know you and Jonah were friends,” Cyrus says carefully. Walker nods slowly.

“We have been for a couple months. We’ve known each other since… you know.”

Since Andi introduced us and then chose Jonah over me. That would be the implied instance.

It occurs to Cyrus that Walker liking Jonah of all people is quite ironic. But he doesn’t say that; he would be a hypocrite, anyway. He was the one dating for TJ Kippen, the boy his best friend used to hate.

“Listen, Walker. I think you should ask him to the dance. See how it goes. Jonah’s kind, and he’d be lucky to have you.”

Walker inhales sharply, and then he nods. Good luck, Cyrus thinks, but he doesn’t say it. Walker Brodsky has always been an enigma, and feelings for Jonah Beck are just another thing to add to the pile. Cyrus has had his suspicions about Jonah possibly liking not only girls, and now, it seems, they’ll all find out.

As Walker stands and walks away, Cyrus thanks his lucky stars that his crush on Jonah Beck went away—it’s kind of boring liking the boy everyone else does, isn’t it?

He gives the green roller skates one last once-over before rising to his battered knees and stumbling into the nurse’s office.

————

A cold wind knocks at Buffy’s window, and she glances out into the darkness. Math homework waits unfinished on her desk, but Buffy is sitting on her bed, legs swinging and mind racing. She plays back a series of moments in her head: the encounter with the Valentine’s Day banner, Cyrus’s text asking for help with TJ, Andi’s purposeful avoidance of her in the mornings and after school.

The wind blows harder, and Buffy grits her teeth. A note from her mom flutters where it is pinned to the bulletin board: a scrawl she left on top of a soup can for Buffy to find a few days after she left. The note reads: You are strong because you are kind, and you are kind because you are strong. I love you. Mom.

She left a week ago for Japan, and Buffy is alone again. Her father is at work, as usual. Buffy doesn’t know if Andi will answer her calls, and if she does, Buffy doesn’t know how she would act—the feigned normalcy from the past year or the new uncomfortableness? She can count on Cyrus, sure, except that he’s always busy with TJ.

So instead of reaching out to anyone, Buffy groans and sort of rolls onto the floor. After stretching out her legs sore from track, she flattens herself on her stomach to look under the bed. A minute of digging her hand around yields the scrap of fabric she’s looking for: a slightly battered pride flag, colored with the blue, purple, and pink of bisexuality.

Buffy glares at it.

This is what’s messing up her life right now. Her stupid feelings. And she can’t even show it in public, or rant to her mom about them, or talk to other LGBT people about confusing signals from possibly straight people. Buffy has told both Andi and Cyrus—Cyrus ordered her the flag. But no one else, so the symbol of her identity just sits untouched beneath her bed.

She runs a hand over the different stripes. When Buffy was ten years old, she wasn’t interested in anyone, girl or boy. Ten year-old Buffy would have thought the flag was made up of lots of pretty colors. When she turned thirteen, she was conscious that who she liked made a difference in who she was, at least for the outside world.

And then she had a tiny crush on Walker, until he tried to ask her to formal with a cult. So Buffy was convinced she was straight even at the beginning of her relationship with Marty, because it was crystal clear in her mind: she liked a boy. Cyrus liked a boy, so he was gay. She liked a boy, so she was straight.

Until the lines weren’t so clear cut anymore.

Like the colors of the flag, blurring into each other so her contact-less self wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between them. Buffy knew what it was like to like a boy. What she didn’t know—yet—was what it was like to like a girl. Until.

When Buffy talks about Marty now, she thinks of him in flashes. First: tentative friends, running partners again, cross country teammates as freshman year dawned. Next was that one time they held hands in the movies and never mentioned it again. Then came the pining and the realization she liked him. She liked him. Next was stress and worry and texting all night until one day they were sitting on the ground in Buffy’s room, right where she’s sitting now, and Marty leaned all the way in to kiss her. Then was dating bliss, then more worry, then breakdown. Buffy tried not to think about those phases, about which parts were her fault and which were out of her control.

Buffy also tries not to think about what happened two months after she hung up on Marty and ran to his house, crying, because they had to break up. Marty had disappeared from her life once again; only the ghost memory of him remained, haunting her runs. Marty from the party: her first kiss, her first love, her first true breakup: almost every first.

Almost.

What he could never be, though, was the first girl.

The realization developed starting midway through freshman year, and it just kept coming back to her. Girls. Girls. Girls. It was like running into a wall over and over again, and that wall was the poster of Fifth Harmony pinned across from her bed. That wall was Hayley Kiyoko’s music being constantly stuck in her head. That wall was the stick in her throat when playing ‘Never Have I Ever’ and Cyrus declared ‘Never have I ever been straight.’

Once she realized it fully, and she could say the word with reasonable calm, it was easy to make the same choice Cyrus had. Actually, it was the opposite of easy. But it felt natural, when she said the two words together. She even told Marty, who told her confidentially he was too, and they bonded over it. The flag came along soon after as a gift from Cyrus. Her spirit was all there: she had the right realization, coming out journey, and self-acceptance.

But sophomore year—that was something Buffy could consider later. She flips the flag over between her hands until she feels centered, and then she slides it beneath her bed again. From across the room, her phone dings with a new message, which she steps to her feet to answer.

GHC fools

kingofthebabytaters: yo gays

kingofthebabytaters: guys*

Buffy makes a note to throw something at him at some point.

kingofthebabytaters: do you think the plan for tj is good??

kingofthebabytaters: I feel like it’s too extra but also not extra enough you know

andicrack: okay back up I thought we were set on signs

kingofthebabytaters: we aRe! but like is that special? andicrack: you made homemade signs that a bunch of ppl are gonna hold up. uh, yeah it is cy

notavampireslayer: yo goodman don’t doubt your excellent plan

kingofthebabytaters: excellent plans don’t always work out

andicrack: name one time—oH are we talking about 8th grade

notavampireslayer: this better not be about that freaking CULT

kingofthebabytaters: the point is I really want TJ to love it

andicrack: maybe perhaps I was buffy

andicrack: HE WILL

andicrack: stop stressing cy guy

kingofthebabytaters: you sound like jonah

andicrack: ew

notavampireslayer: your Valentine’s Day will be great Cyrus I assure you

Buffy puts her phone down for a second to consider this. How is Cyrus, of all people, stressed out about Valentine’s Day? He has a boyfriend, and not a recent one either. He basically has a guaranteed good day. The last time Buffy celebrated Valentine’s Day for real was with Marty, and that was on the back half of their relationship. Tension was building. What she wouldn’t give for one good Valentine’s Day, when the person she likes likes her back completely.

She’s not supposed to be jealous of Cyrus having a relationship, but she might be, which sounds needy but might be the truth. Does Andi have a valentine? She thinks of Amber, feeling a pang of—something—and turns her phone over in her hand. She’s doing the Andi thing where she hides her feelings from herself if she doesn’t like that she’s feeling them. She learned it from the best, like maybe if she doesn’t acknowledge them, they’ll go away. Buffy taps the back of her phone with her hand; she knows her feelings won’t go away.

Rolling over on her bed, Buffy opens her phone to Netflix. Since it’s the week before Valentine’s Day, sad hours, and even more specifically sad gay hours, Buffy starts to turn on Love, Simon. Before she can, though, the ringtone of her phone interrupts the logos. It’s not a text but a call from a FaceTime number. Buffy swallows as she stares at the screen, trying to decide if she wants to pick up.

Who is she trying to trick? The phone is in her hand and the accept button pressed within two seconds.

“Hey, Buffy,” Andi says from the screen. She pushes a piece of bangs back from her eyes and smiles up at Buffy.

“What’s up?” “Just wanted to talk. See how you are,” Andi says, which sounds like a weak reasons anyways but even weaker coming from Andi, who never seems sure of herself anymore.

“I’m good…” Buffy says, then gets mad at herself for being boring. “I’ve just been thinking about freshman and sophomore years, you know. Reminiscing.” Andi nods along, and the two discuss school, friends, food, preferences, and the origins of Valentine’s Day (which happens to be the execution of two men during the Roman Empire). Buffy ends up modeling her two different options for a dragon costume (don’t ask), and Andi brings the phone downstairs so Buffy can say hello to Bex and Bowie.

An hour and a half later, Buffy can feel her eyelids drifting closed but doesn’t want to stop talking. It’s been a good several months since they have really talked like this—and it’s been a year since they’ve talked for so long with a comfortable ease. Everything dates back to one year ago, to what Buffy regrets every day and doesn’t regret at all. Her mother would tell her to ignore the regrets and just live, which is exactly what she’s trying to do. But Andi and her complicated feelings always make things hard, just like they did with Jonah. Buffy knows, somewhere, that the complicated feelings aren’t just from Andi; they’re from her too. But it’s easier to blame the problem that’s on the surface rather than the problem deep inside of her.

Because the problem deep inside is related to a word Buffy has only heard therapists say with meaning: commitment. And the second issue has to do with the flag underneath her bed.

But Buffy has her mom and Cyrus and yes, Andi, to worry about, so she doesn’t think about these things.

“So Buffy,” Andi says, slicing through her thoughts. “Is Marty dating someone right now?” “He’s dating Eleanor,” Buffy says as quickly as possible, then stops. Andi’s jealousy of Marty is an idea she can get behind, if it gives her any leverage.

“Yeah? What happened to Ross?”

Buffy laughs, only because Marty’s first boyfriend was a crackhead who he loved too much. Of course Ross broke Marty’s heart. “Ross is long gone.”

Andi nods, slowly. Then she says what Buffy thinks she’s wanted to say all this time: “I think Jonah likes someone else.” I think you like someone else, Buffy thinks, but she shuts herself up. “Who? Amber?”

Andi laughs. “Hopefully not, since she’s definitely a lesbian.”

“Jonah has a history of bad crushes.” Ouch.

“Jonah can like whoever he wants, I don’t care. I hope he has a good Valentine’s Day. WIthout me.” Andi looks very pleased with herself, which she honestly should be. On-again-off again Jonah and Andi had lasted multiple years and in a year alone had undergone seven separate disasters (Buffy counted). And yet, here she is, four months later, still a little caught up on him.

Jealousy stings.

“Good to know you’re being civil about it, Andi,” Buffy replies, not really paying attention.

“Oh, I am. Libby and I still have plans to form a club: the ex-Jonahs.” “Form that club and I may have to block your number and burn my phone for good measure.” Andi giggles.

“Wow, we’re really bad with boys, huh?” Andi asks, tilting her head to the side.

“Girls too,” Buffy agrees, and Andi smiles a tiny smile. Buffy thinks of the flag and counts to three the different shades until she’s calm again. But when Andi smiles, with that gorgeous smile and brilliant eyes—

Time to shut this down before it got away from her.

“Look at us,” Andi says, her chinks blushing pink. “Single on Valentine’s Day. Maybe we should go to the dance together. After all, Cyrus abandoned us by getting a boyfriend. We’re the same as we’ve always been.”

As Buffy nods along to agree that yes, they should go to the dance together, yes, it would be extremely fun, and yes, Cyrus is now an official traitor to the Good Hair Crew and they need to hold auditions for a replacement immediately, she turns over that statement in her head like she had the note from her mom and the flag.

Somewhere around 12:42 am, Andi whispers a goodbye from the relative darkness of her room. Buffy mumbles one back, blinking sleepy tears from her eyes and waving with a slightly glowing hand. Andi waves back, and neither of them hang up until Buffy feels her eyes actually drift shut and finally does. She falls asleep in the next minute with Andi stuck in her mind, playing on repeat next to the words Valentine’s Day and dance.

On the other end, Andi stays awake until an even more ungodly hour, mostly staring at her window and wondering. Wondering how she can have messed up something so badly yet be lucky enough not to have ruined everything. Wondering if Jonah will ever return her third favorite sweatshirt. Wondering if Buffy is asleep now or laying awake thinking. Wondering whether every decision she makes is a massive mistake or a useless choice. Wondering how she’s going to get through this.

We’re the same as we’ve always been.

But they’re not. The unspoken between them is a living, breathing thing: one year old. Andi remembers the day; how could she not? Buffy may think Andi has forgotten it; she hasn’t. The reason sticks in her head every day: the reason for the tension, the reason for the discomfort, the reason for a year of needless separation.

It’s just a reason Andi can never even begin to acknowledge.

And so she doesn’t.

#andi mack #am gift exchange #valentines exchange #friendom gift exchange #wonah #bandi #tyrus #writing #fanfic

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