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It was an average Sunday for Ben, following the same routine that he had quickly adjusted to and gotten comfortable with. The routine being as follows;
1. Waking up to the lingering warmth of Ricky's dearly missed presence, (as if he'd ever admit that.)
2. Finding him in the kitchen with his mom.
3. Spacing out and admiring Ricky's beauty like the straight man he is.
And finally;
4. Sketching him at random moments.
Yeah, it was pretty normal in his own humble opinion.
He sunk into the mattress below him as he carelessly dragged the pencil across the paper, sketching out his features out via muscle memory. He practically knew him from the back of his hand and he didn't know whether he should hate it or not.
It was just so, easy to draw Ricky, he had long eyelashes that fluttered oh, so elegantly against his pale cheeks in the dim shine of the moonlight, his silky, slick-backed hair that he'd comb down and watch in exasperation as it went back into place.
He was just so,
Beautiful.
(When did he get into this whole wax poetic thing?)
It made his heart ache, it made him feel so many emotions, he never knew he could get this lucky in his miserable little life that he had once wanted to end.
But unfortunately he wanted more than that, more of Ricky, but Ricky wasn't gay. He wasn't a fag like him—
Ben's train of thoughts were promptly cut off by the sound of his bedroom window opening, a sound of a body hitting the floor with a loud thud following shortly after.
He sighed, smiling to himself, the same, familiar black hair peeking through the corner of his eyes.
"Why'd you come back, shitbird?" Ben teased lightly, a small, rare, smile playing at his lips.
"Just wanted to see ya'." And holy fuck did that make his stomach swarm with butterflies that had been haunting his digestive system for the past year. He's so done.
"...Me too." he whispered.
"What?" Ricky asked loudly, a faint pink tinting his cheeks (Ben swore he was hallucinating), "Nothing, nothing. I didn't say anything.."
"Whatever you say, Brookie!"
"Fuck off."
———
"I'm so tired of walking in on them practically cuddling on his bed whenever I go into his bedroom to call him for breakfast." Donna sighed solemnly, poking at her food as Brady showered her with reassurances that weren't necessary.
"Tell me about it." Skeeter remarks, rolling her eyes, "Can't catch a break even at school." she continues.
"I still can't believe I never saw the signs when we were dating." Lola frowns at the memory of their particularly loveless relationship that had lasted a year before the disastrous events that had occured during Prom Night.
Donna nods, deep in thought, "I always found it weird how he never did those..." she trails.
"Couple–y things." Lola finishes for her.
"Yeah!"
"M' sure it became clear when Ricky entered the picture?" Skeeter pipes up.
"He was always in the picture, it just got...stranger, the more time went on." Donna supplies.
They (sans Brady, who was—very, very confused.) look at eachother, silently agreeing. "There's definitely something going on."
"Like what?" Brady asks cluelessly, "Something." Donna mumbles, and he simply nods.
"So, anyway, what are we supposed to do?" Skeeter asks, before a tall, eccentric figure walks up to their table.
"Hey, ladies." Kenny starts, winking at Lola (who had attempted to hide behind Brady.) "Just get on with it, leprechaun."
"What the fuck! Colonist."
"Leprechau—"
"Care to say why you're here?" Donna interrupts, "Well, we heard you talking about Ben and Ricky, and, you noticed their unique relationship as well! And I need to spice up my highschool life—"
"He ran out of weed and our—fuck, I mean, his seller's in the hospital."
"Bobbie shut the fuck up." Kenny grumbles, before turning his head to look at them. "So—"
"No." Lola says, squinting her eyes at him as she clings onto Brady like a lifeline. "Wait, think about it, I mean, more people on this operation the higher the chances, right?" Skeeter whispers, looking at Kenny and back at them.
"It could work.." Donna agrees, before continuing; "We'll let you in on the plan if you don't use our time to flirt with Lola, got it?"
"Oh, ok, I guess. Sigh."
"Did you just say 'sigh'."
"Bobbie I'm being expressive!"
"You can express yourself when I beat your twinkass up."
"I'm not even that skinny and gay!"
"'Not even that' what could that possibly imply." Skeeter giggles.
"Oh— just shut up and just let me talk!" Kenny frowns, "You already are," all 5 of the point out. "Well fuck you guys."
"Just get on with it." Brady sighs.
"Ok, so, what if, matchmaking." He starts enthusiastucally, making exaggerated 'ah? ah?'s.
"How is that supposed to work—"
"Wow you losers are bad at this." Kenny cuts in before sliding into the seat next to Skeeter, Bobbie, following shortly after. "It's like—"
"Getting them together, yeah, we know," Donna interrupts once-fucking-more, "Then why'd she ask—" he says, bewildered.
"Ok, but like, how are we supposed to help them get together?" Skeeter starts, "I dunno, lock them in a closet." Bobbie suggests helpfully.
"Cliche!"
"Are you sure this isn't gonna backfire?"
"Is that a 'closeted gay' metaphor?"
"A closeted gay what now?"
"Ok, clearly you all suck at this, lucky for you I'm the master!" Kenny grins, "You can't even hold a stable relationship for a week."
"I'm a different man now, Bobbie! Fuck you!"
"No, you're still Irish."
"I'm Scottish!"
"This is so stupid why'd we even include them." Donna sighs, rubbing her face with her hands. "Desperate calls for desperate measures, Donna." Skeeter states seriously.
———
After an entire week of intricate planning (going to cafe's and getting distracted by a multitude of topics and reasons.)
They had finally decided to set their little plan into motion. It went as follows;
1. invite evry1 2 ben and donnas house (got permission from mama
brokes brooksbricksbrookes!!!!!!!!)2. play spin the bottle (and play truth or dare idk.)
3. HOPE IT GOES WELL!!!! X))
"It's foolproof!" Kenny exclaims proudly.
"No, this is just proof that you're a fool." Bobbie says drily. "Fuck off man,"
Skeeter squints at the paper, raising an eyebrow, "This is..." she trails off with a slight grimace, "Amazing? Yeah! I know."
"Kenny, yes offense, I think you're getting too ahead of yourself." Lola sighs as she takes a sip of her milkshake.
"Well do you guys have any better plans?" he inquired, a beat of silence. Suddenly his ego had skyrocketed, "Exactly." he huffs triumphantly, placing his hands on his hips as everyone collectively roll their eyes.
"This isn't gonna end well..."
———
"A hangout?" Ben asks for approximately the 10th time in the past 5 minutes. "Yes, Ben, a hangout." Donna says dully. Looking at him as if he were the stupidest person in the world.
"You know I'm not—"
"Please, Ben? You really need to get out of your comfort zone."
"You're really starting to sound like mom." he observes, earning a stern glare, "Hey, hey, that doesn't mean no..."
"Good! It's at our house, by the way."
"What the fuck—Donna!" he shouts, but she had already ran away. "You cannot be serious." he mutters to himself in disbelief, turning to his locker and promptly banging his head against it.
———
"Hangout? Yeah, I'll go." Ricky replies rather blankly. "C'mon, dude, why do you sound so down in the dumps?" Kenny probes.
"S' nothing—"
"Ben's coming." Bobbie added, and oh, in the span of Kenny's 1 year–turning–2 friendship with Ricky, never, ever has he seen Ricky's body language shift entirely, never has he seen his eyes sparkling like lightbulbs were shoved into his eyesockets, and never, ever has he seen his shit-eating grin, grow even wider.
"Oh, Brookie? Cool, cool." he coughs, attempting to play it cool, fiddling with the hem of his leather jacket nervously, little did he know, Kenny had the eyes of a hawk! (Self-proclaimed, but that didn't matter.)
"That's one way to show off your homosexuality without directly stating it." Nancy deadpans, chewing out another piece of gum.
"I don't know what you're talking about." he sputters out.
"Whatever."
A beat of silence passes. The silence eventually being broken by, well, Ricky.
"Where's Heather? She'd make a homophobic jab by now,"
"Probably playing with Stuart." Bobbie replies. And Kenny stopped listening to the conversation, back to the task at hand!
Kenny just had to report this.
———
glue || friday, 3:21 pm.
📌 Pinned Message: agent kenny [tue , 12:17 am.] : Btchs be jels cuh i got mow huzz than them ih cool lie dat bra
agent kenny [3:21 pm.] : @agent donna REPORT FROM BEN????????? :ddd
4:13 pm.
agent donna [4:13 pm.] : I convinced him
[🥳: 3] — agent kenny, agent skeeter, agent brady.
agent donna [4:14 pm.] what about ricky?
agent bobbie [4:14 pm.] : he agreed but he lit up like a queer christmas tree the moment i mentioned ben.
agent lola [4:15 pm.] : Queer Christmas tree 😭
agent kenny [4:15 pm.] : stage 1: suckcess 🔥🔥🔥👻👻👻🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉
agent skeeter [4:15 pm.] : you spelt sucess wrong btw
agent lola [4:15 pm.] : You spelt it wrong too
agent skeeter [4:16 pm.] : oh
agent kenny [4:16 pm.] : MINUS AURA 😂😂
agent kenny has been muted by agent bobbie for 5 minutes.
emily [4:22 pm.] : Why am I here again?
agent kenny [4:22 pm.] : idk ure smart and skeeter and bobbie glaze u
agent kenny [4:23 pm.] : also fuck u bobbie 😒
emily [4:23 pm.] : Ok...
agent lola [4:28 pm.] : By the way, I've been meaning to ask, why is this groupchat named 'glue'?
agent kenny [4:29 pm.] : cuz rickys a nosy bitch that peeks at my phone whenever i turn it on
agent kenny [4:29 pm.] : iont want him 2 know about the niche ben x ricky operation we have going on 🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🙂↕️🙂↕️🙂↕️🙂↕️🙂↕️
agent skeeter [4:29 pm.] : do we even have a ship name for them
agent kenny [4:30 pm.] : ship?? like the titanic??
agent bobbie [4:30 pm.] : oh my god, dumbass.
agent bobbie [4:31 pm.] : ship. relation–'ship'.
agent kenny [4:32 pm.] : ermm ok nerd 😂😂😂😂😂🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒
agent bobbie [4:32 pm.] : i'm gonna choke you
--> replying to agent skeeter : do we even have a ship name for them
agent donna [4:39 pm.] : I think Bricky is a good ship name
agent kenny [4:39 pm.] : donna. ur mind. 🔥
agent kenny has renamed glue to operation bricky.
agent lola [4:40 pm.] : It's still kind of obvious but ok
read by everyone.
———
Richard Collins was so, fucking, done.
Having your lips ontop of your probably straight bestfriend's own isn't a very favourable situation, (It actually was.) especia-fucking-lly if you have a huge, gay, crush on said bestfriend—you know, just some homie stuff.
Let's have a replay!
Saturday. A day Ricky had been dreading ever since he had been invited (Which had been yesterday.)
Why? You may ask, well the answer is obvious!
Ben was going.
Sure, sure, they've been bestfriends for what—a year or two now? And their relationship is...complicated and most probably platonic because Ben was straight.
But he's too far gone.
With a sigh, he disregards the 6th shirt in the past 10 minutes, deeming it 'Not–Nonchalantly–Ricky' enough, abbreviated as NNR.
He walks over to his closet to dig for more clothes, but he stops dead in his tracks to ask himself a question. 'What was he doing?'
Ricky, a man, who never really cared about his clothes, Ricky, a man, who—simply slaps a shirt, pants, and a jacket on.
Ricky, a man, who's having a wardrobe crisis, right here right now.
What the fuck is going on with him?
He is a man of many questions, as quoted by Skeeter.
Eventually, after approximately 20 minutes of self debate, he settles on a black shirt with a bleached rib pattern, jeans, and a black belt being the only thing holding it together.
Seems good enough, he thinks to himself as he grabs his stuff, (checking his watch along the way, 5:12 pm. They didn't specify what time the hangout would be... it wouldn't be his fault if he was late.) and he soundlessly heads out the window to avoid his...not very sober father. It had become a habit, of some sort.
Oddly enough, Ricky was...nervous, which was very, veryyy unlike him.
He brushed it off, standing awkwardly at the Brookes porch, finding himself raising one of his hands (the other clutching the strap of the messenger bag tightly.), and lightly tapping his knuckles against the door.
His hand stays up, floating in the air. Thoughts running at 100 miles per hour.
Since when was he such a gentleman?
And;
What the fuck was he doing?
The door swings open rather quickly, revealing a smiling Miss Brookes. "Oh, hello." she greeted warmly, stepping away and letting him in.
"Ben and his...friends, are upstairs." she adds, pointing at the stairs.
Ricky nods, "Ok, thank you." he coughs out, scrambling up the stairs and ending up infront of Ben's familiar bedroom door.
With a deep breath, he hesitantly reaches out for the handle. What the fuck was going on with him.
"Get a hold of yourself, Ricky." he mutters to himself before pushing the door open and everyone turns their heads to look at his awkward frame standing at the doorway.
A beat of silence passes, before;
"Romeo!"
"Took you long enough."
"Queer of the hou—mnghmp...!"
"O–kay." he laughs, raising an eyebrow, spotting Ben and walking over to him, (Throwing his bag onto his bed along the way) and making himself comfortable next to him.
Their shoulders brush, (Ricky felt his face growing warmer.) a comfortable quiet settling between them, as the conversations flow.
"We should play Spin The Bottle!" Kenny announces, a grin playing on his lips as everyone, oddly enough, agrees.
"No." Ben spoke for the first time since Ricky entered. "Party pooper. We're playing anyway!"
"C'mon, Brookie, it'll be fun!" he tries, nudging at his shoulders. "No. Shitbird."
"Well, too bad it's opposite day," Skeeter added, placing the used bottle in the middle of their little circle. "I'll spin first."
———
The game goes normally, If you considered Kenny jumping out the window, forcing Bobbie to sing 'We're Off to See The Wizard' from the Wizard of Oz, learning the fact that Lola used to have a pet lizard named 'Spitbull Terrier', and forcing Brady to take his jacket off, (It had been a gift from Donna.) normal.
In all honesty, Ben had lost interest 5 minutes into the game, but—that'd change, of course.
"Kenny! Your turn," Lola smiles, and tension, seeps into the room, as he spins the bottle.
And; it lands on Ben.
What did he ever do to deserve this?
"Truth or dare?" He asks.
Fuck. He has a lot of secrets that he'd like to keep a secret, thank you very much. (He couldn't lie either, curse Donna and her stupid twin telepathy.) And so, he settles with; "Dare."
"Do Seven Minutes in Heaven with Ricky."
A beat of silence.
"What the fuck."
"What." They say in unison. (Well, they had said 'What' at the same time, atleast.)
"No way." Ricky mutters, and ouch did that hurt a little bit. "Too bad, a dare is a dare," Bobbie says, as he pulls them up and gently shoves them into Ben's closet. Amazing. He could die right now.
"So," Ricky mumbles, attempting to start a conversation as he sits himself infront of Ben, their legs intertwining. "Ya' barely spoke, are you ok?"
Ben raises an eyebrow, "Yeah, I am."
"Oh, ok." he coughs out.
"Are...you thinking about anything?" he tries again. Yielding...0 results, as the other stays quiet.
"No."
"That's...unlike you."
"What?"
"You always have something on your mind."
"Oh." Ben replies smartly.
"Oh." Ricky mouths back, smiling.
"Maybe I am thinking about something." he mutters.
"Like what?" Ricky whispers, leaning in slightly.
"You."
Oh my fucking gosh.
"Hm, really?" he pokes, placing a hand on Ben's cheek, leaning in even closer. My God was he feeling bold today.
"Yeah."
And he lunges forward, catching Ben's lips in his. Maybe this really was heaven. He thinks to himself.
———
"Dude, it's been 10 minutes. What's taking them so long?" Kenny sighs, as they stand around in the living room. (Donna, ever the saint, made them leave the room and give them privacy.)
"No idea." Skeeter mumbles in reply, slinging an arm over the couch arm, flipping through the channels available on the TV.
"Bets?" Brady asks, letting out a wince as Donna elbows him.
"5 bucks on radio-silence."
"Heart to heart!"
"Makeout."
"That's not—"
And when they come back down 5 minutes later with tousled hair and obviously ruffled clothes, no one says anything.
"How's the weather?"
"Kenny it's fucking 9."