hi

Reggie, for his part, is acting like Luke’s world hasn’t just been tilted on its axis in a dangerous way. “Hey, guys,” he says nonchalantly. “Sup?”

Alex recovers much quicker than Luke, though there’s still a glint of concern in his eyes. They both know how self-conscious Reggie can be, especially about his smile, so he treads carefully. “Hey, Reginald. Do anything fun for your birthday?”

They had their own party on Friday after school―Luke gave Reggie a new studded strap for his bass because the one he’d found in Bobby’s garage had started to look pretty sad―but Reggie’s parents are the type to force family time onto him any chance they get. Luke has a sneaking suspicion they only do it so they can use Reggie against each other in whatever asinine argument comes up that day, but it’s not like he can really do anything about it. None of them can, so Reggie is unfortunately left to his own devices when it comes to compulsory dysfunctional family celebrations. “Not really,” he says in lieu of giving any actual details; he’ll tell them eventually, but a crowded classroom is not ideal for dishing out his personal drama. “Got braces.” He shrugs, like his mom hasn’t made him feel like shit about his less than perfect teeth for most of his childhood. Definitely since Luke’s known him, anyway, and they’ve been friends since they were ten.

“Oh, did you?” Alex asks, and it sounds borderline sarcastic but he holds back most of his usual bite. “Let’s see ‘em, then.” He holds an arm out in a grand gesture like he’s giving Reggie the floor, and Reggie flashes the most hesitant smile Luke’s ever seen on him.

Luke swears his heart stops, but Alex is once again carrying the conversation so he does his best to tune in. “Oh, nice,” Alex says, approving of the red brackets stuck to the front of Reggie’s teeth with a slight nod.

Reggie returns the gesture, and he looks considerably more relaxed now that he knows his friends won’t shun him for something this mundane. “Thanks,” he tells Alex before turning to face Luke, and he looks a little apprehensive, like maybe Luke should get his brain to reboot so he can offer some reassuring words instead of just staring like a total weirdo.

Luke wants to say something about how red looks good on him, or how it’s cool that it’ll match his favourite flannel, or maybe he’d settle for even just a supportive thumbs up. What actually comes out of his mouth is, “How long do you have to wear them?”

Reggie gives him a funny look, head tilted and brow furrowed. “Only like, a year,” he answers anyway, and Luke wants to scream.

Thankfully, the teacher chooses that moment to draw their attention to the front of the room, and Reggie turns around in his seat so Luke can only see the back of his head. Luke sighs in relief, sinking further into his chair till his limbs are sprawled out into the aisle, accepting his defeat. It’s gonna be a long year.

-

Luke decidedly does not address the issue after that day. The issue being that weird fluttery feeling he gets in his chest every time Reggie smiles at him, or laughs, or talks, or breathes. Basically any time he sees the glint of metal in Reggie’s mouth, really.

It’s not like this is a new development, exactly; Luke has always had a bit of a soft spot for Reggie, a little bit of weakness. In the six years they’ve known each other, he can’t recall a time that Reggie just existing didn’t make his brain static out. The braces just made him recognize what’s always been true, even if he still doesn’t know how to make sense of it.

Normally he’d talk to his best friends about whatever’s on his mind, but he can’t very well articulate a dilemma he can’t comprehend to begin with. Plus, he doubts Alex would be any help, considering he’s got his own set of issues to work through, and he’d rather die than bring it up with Reggie himself. And as for Bobby, well. Bobby’s got the emotional depth of a puddle. So, naturally, he does the only logical thing there is to do: he writes.

He figures if Reggie’s smile is stuck in his head like a song, he might as well make it one. It’s what he’s good at, and it gives him a false sense of separation from the issue that grants a certain clarity he can’t get any other way. He jots down pages and pages of lyrics, curled up in his bed late one night, fingers itching for his guitar even though he knows his mom would kill him if she caught him playing at 1am again. So he just sits cross-legged on his comforter, hunched over his ratty old notebook, scrawling cliche lines about green eyes and freckles and an endearingly crooked canine.

It’s the sappiest thing he’s ever written. When he reads over it before school the next morning, he knows he’s well and truly fucked.

-

Reggie plops down into the dip in the center of the studio couch, inadvertently leaning onto Luke’s shoulder. “You working on a new song?” he asks, tilting his chin at the notebook on Luke’s lap like the question needs clarification.

Luke nods even as he scrambles to shut the book, shuffling loose papers to stuff them between the creased cover. “Uh,” he stammers, biting his lip. “Yeah, I am.”

Reggie just nods back, averting his eyes to look up at the loft when he realizes that Luke doesn’t want him to see the song. “Rad. What's it called?” He glances at Luke, offering a comforting smile that says Luke can tell him as much or as little as he wants.

And well, that's the thing. Luke hasn't given it a name yet―the song, or the bewildering cocktail of feelings that inspired it to begin with. So he looks up from his scratchy handwriting to Reggie’s lopsided grin and says the first thing his useless brain can come up with. “Crooked Teeth.”

“Oh.” Reggie’s smile slides right off his face and Luke realizes what he's done half a second too late. Reggie bites his lip self-consciously, fidgeting with the sleeves of the flannel tied around his waist as Luke scrambles to backtrack into less sensitive territory.

“It's about Bobby,” he blurts unwittingly. And technically speaking, it is a little bit about Bobby, mostly because it's a little bit about the whole band, seeing as they’re mentioned in one line of the second chorus. But Bobby’s not the point of the song, not by a long shot. Luke decides Reggie doesn't need to know that, though. Especially not when his face lights up at the revelation, conspiratorial eyebrow raised like Luke’s letting him in on some great secret.

“Oh, snap! Well, I won't tell him, but don't let him find those lyrics.” Reggie winks, and it's not like it’s an unfamiliar sight, but Luke’s heart stutters out of time all the same. He's just glad Reggie isn’t the type to ask to see a song before Luke’s ready to share it; Luke doubts he'll ever be ready to share this particular piece, but if he does show it to Reggie, it'll be his choice.

He laughs halfheartedly, more a forceful exhale than anything else, and lands a playful punch to Reggie’s bicep. “Sure, man.”

Reggie just smiles wider. It feels like a kick straight to Luke’s solar plexus.

-

“You told him it’s about Bobby?” Alex asks, but what Luke hears is, you’re an idiot. Luke looks down at his best friend―he used to consider Reggie his best friend too, but he thinks maybe Reggie is in a category all his own at this point―and frowns. “He got his braces off before we even met him.” Alex stands up, walking around his drum kit to pace the floor. “And you told Reggie it’s called Crooked Teeth before you said that? Dude, you know how insecure he is about―”

“Yeah, Al, I know,” Luke huffs, cutting him off. It’s not the title Luke would've consciously chosen, but it's weirdly fitting, in a sort of convoluted way. Like, maybe Reggie’s teeth weren’t the sole catalyst for this whole...whatever this is, but they definitely played a major part. Luke’s really gonna miss Reggie’s snaggletooth, okay? He resents Reggie’s parents for a lot of reasons, but forcing him to get braces instead of a real birthday present is pretty damn high on the list.

Alex, with all his anxiety-induced powers of perception, notices Luke’s internal struggle and momentarily stops wearing a hole in the floor. “You’re kinda wiggin’ out, man. Chill.” He holds his hands out in what’s meant to be a placating gesture, but the drumsticks in his fists sort of ruin the effect.

“You’re one to talk,” Luke mumbles, but he doesn’t mean it, and Alex knows that. He’s just confused, and stressed, and generally unsure what to do with his recent epiphany. “What should I do?” he asks louder, eyes pleading.

Alex goes back to nervously lapping the room, and Luke picks at a loose string on his guitar strap just to have something to do. “I dunno,” Alex says after what could very well be an eternity. “But I think you’d feel better if you told him.”

Luke’s eyes shoot up to meet Alex’s gaze, brow furrowing involuntarily. “You what?”

Alex walks over, planting his feet in front of Luke, clapping a hand on Luke’s shoulder that isn’t holding his guitar strap up. “You’re clearly upset about this, Lucas. Tell him.”

Luke is shaking his head before Alex has even finished his sentence. “Not happening.” He folds his arms like a petulant child, but it loses its effectiveness when his guitar gets in the way, a sad thump echoing through the room. “I wouldn’t know what to say, anyway.”

Alex cocks an eyebrow with a pointed look at the notebook sitting on top of Luke’s amp. “I think you already said it.”

Luke follows his line of sight, eyes landing on the folded corner of a piece of paper sticking out from all the others. He already knows what’s written on it―has the words memorized by now. They were written on his heart long before he put them to the page, anyway.

Bobby bursts into the studio then, Reggie in tow, and the moment is broken. They’re laughing about something Bobby said, and Reggie is as beautiful as ever as he throws his head back, and Luke thinks that maybe one day he’ll get the courage to tell him how he feels. He’ll ask Alex to work with him on the music to go with his lyrics, maybe even get Bobby to help with the melody. He’ll throw rocks at Reggie’s window and serenade him from his front lawn like they do in the movies, and his friends will back him up, and it’ll be perfect.

He'll rub his arms to try and warm them up whenever nobody's looking. He'll sit on his hands or stick them between his thighs to keep his fingers from feeling like they're going numb. But he won't admit that he's cold, even if one of the guys catches him shivering.

It's just the principle of the thing.

Tonight in particular, Luke's once again made the poor decision to go sleeveless while hanging out on the Santa Monica pier after the sun goes down. He and Reggie are waiting for Alex and Bobby to get out of the arcade, where they left the other two locked in an intense battle over skeeball.

A breeze passes by and Luke shivers a little, but tries to pretend like he didn't when Reggie notices. He looks away as Reggie moves a little closer and knocks his elbow against Luke's.

"You cold?"

"Nah, I'm fine," Luke answers as he crosses his arms. Reggie rolls his eyes and starts shrugging off his leather jacket, and Luke groans. "Reg, I said I'm--"

"Take my jacket," Reggie insists as he lays it across Luke's shoulders, "it's cold outside."

"What about you?" Luke asks as he goes to pull Reggie's jacket off. "Won't you be cold?"

"I've got my flannel," Reggie says as he unties it from around his waist and pulls it on, smiling at Luke once he's finished. "See? Now we're both nice and warm."

Luke rolls his eyes, but he slips his arms into Reggie's jacket and pulls it close around him. It's warm from Reggie's body heat and, as Luke tucks his face against the inner layer, it smells like him, too.

When he looks up he catches Reggie looking at him, and both of them blush simultaneously. Luke laughs a little and slides a little closer to Reggie, clearing his throat as Reggie gives him a wide-eyed look.

"A little more body heat couldn't hurt, right?" he says, smiling as he slips his arm around Reggie's waist.

"Uhh," Reggie squeaks a little, his face going even redder. "Yeah, n-no, you're probably right."

Luke smiles as Reggie puts his arm around his shoulders, and thinks to himself maybe being cold isn't so bad after all.

"I just…" Reggie sighs heavily and his shoulders slump. "It's our first date, you know? It's special."

Julie smiles at him and laughs softly. "Hang on," she tells him, and then raises her voice and yells, "DAD!"

"What are you--" Reggie tries to ask, but Ray pops his head into Julie's room no more than twenty seconds later.

"What is it, mija?" he asks as he glances back and forth between her and Reggie.

"Can you help Reggie with his tie?" she asks.

"No, I don't-- You don't--"

"Of course!" Ray comes into the room and gestures for Reggie to come over to him. "Every young man should know how to tie a tie."

Julie clears her throat pointedly and Ray laughs.

"Every young person," he corrects, "should know."

He glances at Julie and she winks at him to let him know he's done well. Reggie's cheeks turn slightly pink as Ray guides him back towards the mirror and stands behind him.

"The first few times I tied my own tie, oh--" Ray whistles, "--it looked terrible. But! With a little bit of practice, I got pretty good."

He reaches over Reggie's shoulder and starts fixing his tie so that Reggie can see exactly what he's doing. Reggie watches with rapt attention as Ray loops and pulls the fabric and somehow manages to make it look absolutely perfect in a matter of seconds.

"I, uhh, think you might have to show me again," Reggie admits after Ray's done.

"Absolutely, mijo." Ray laughs. "You just let me know."

Reggie's phone buzzes where it's sitting on Julie's bed, and she quickly picks it up and then looks up at Reggie with a grin.

"He's here."

"Okay, okay," Reggie takes a deep breath and sighs, nervously tugging at his tie. "How do I look?"

"Like a million bucks," Julie tells him.

"You're gonna knock him dead!" Ray adds, patting Reggie's shoulder.

Reggie blushes as he takes his phone from Julie and quickly texts Luke back that he's coming downstairs now. Julie and Ray follow him out of her room, both of them pausing about halfway down the staircase as Reggie meets Luke at the door.

"I want him home by eleven, young man!" Julie calls, making Luke laugh and Reggie blush even more.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Ray adds, and even Julie admonishes him with a soft Dad!

"Okay, thank you! Bye!" Reggie says as he quickly ushers Luke out the door and closes it behind him. Luke pauses once the door's shut, turning around to face Reggie with a smile.

"You look nice," he says as he reaches out to touch the bottom of Reggie's tie.

"T-Thanks," Reggie replies shakily.

"I like this," Luke goes on, "you know why?"

Reggie shakes his head and Luke moves his hand further up the tie and uses it to pull Reggie towards him, close enough that he can kiss him.

"That's why," he whispers against Reggie's mouth.

"Y-Yep," Reggie says, "I definitely like it too."

Luke grins and kisses him again before he lets go of Reggie's tie and takes his hand, ready to get on with their official first date.

He opens the window and as soon as Luke realizes he’s there, he drops the rock and waves at him to come down.

Reggie holds up a finger — he needs a minute to throw on a pair of jeans and his flannel. It’s Southern California so it’s never really cold, but it’s still December and the middle of the night, so he wants something warmer to wear than the pjs that are so old he’s worn holes in the armpits.

He carefully slips out the window, closing it behind him extremely quietly, and, using the well-worn handholds in the grooves of the siding on the house, he climbs swiftly down. The first time he’d snuck out at ten-years-old he’d been terrified he was going to break his arm, but now, six years later, the motions are second nature to him.

Luke is waiting not-so-patiently when Reggie finally has his feet on the ground, bouncing up and down on his toes, his backpack slung over one shoulder. Reggie wonders if he’s chilly, as both his t-shirt and his hoodie have had the sleeves inexpertly hacked off, but maybe the perpetual bouncy motion keeps him warm or something.

“C’mon, bro, let’s go,” Luke says, clapping Reggie on the shoulder and then grabbing his arm and dragging him behind him.

Reggie stumbles but catches himself quickly. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Luke shoots over his shoulder, flashing him a mischievous grin.

They make their way down to the beach, to a section that far enough away from the houses of his neighborhood that no nosy neighbors are going to see a couple of teenage delinquents hanging out in the middle of the night and call the cops on them again. When they get to a spot that Luke deems appropriate by some metric known only to him, he slings his backpack around and drags Bobby’s favorite blanket out, tossing it on the ground and smoothing out the wrinkles.

Reggie throws himself down onto the blanket, and stares out into the dark waves. The only light is the reflection of the waxing moon. “You know Bobby’s gonna be pissed that you’re getting sand all in his blanket, right?”

Luke waves a hand around, “Eh, he’ll get over it once I tell him why I borrowed it. ’S for a good cause and all.”

“Sneaking out of my house is a good cause?”

“Yeah, dude, of course it is. Now shove over so I can sit down.”

Luke gets himself situated on the blanket despite Reggie not moving over for him at all. His knee is shoved up in Reggie’s armpit, but his leg is a warm press along his side, so Reggie doesn’t really feel the need to move more.

“Alright, now you have to close your eyes,” Luke says, head shoved halfway down into his backpack, digging around like he’s looking for something.

Reggie narrows his eyes warily. “Why?”

“Just trust me, bro, I promise it’s not a prank this time!”

“This time,” Reggie sighs but closes his eyes anyway, because he does. Trust Luke, that is. Trusts him with more than Luke probably even knows, but that’s okay.

There’s more shuffling around, something that sounds like paper, then the click of a lighter? Reggie really hopes that Luke didn’t find a pack of cigarettes or something, considering how much of a disaster it had been that time that they’d stolen a pack from Reggie’s mom when they were twelve and trying to be cool. Reggie’d thrown up violently two puffs in and then his mom had slapped him hard enough to bruise when she’d figured out what he’d done.

A sudden beeping noise startles Reggie out of those unpleasant memories and his eyes fly open to see Luke’s face lit up by the warm glow of two birthday candles — one for each of the cupcakes he’s holding in a slightly misshapen cardboard box.

“Happy birthday!” Luke cheers, grin wide and toothy. On the blanket, Alex’s watch is beeping away, informing them that is in fact midnight.

It’s Reggie’s seventeenth birthday and Luke bought him cupcakes.

Luke — Luke, who has no money to his name, not since he ran away from home and started living in the Wilson’s garage, who plays for tips on the pier to scrounge up enough money to keep his guitars in working order and occasionally splurge on pizza — bought him cupcakes from Reggie’s favorite bakery, the fancy one near the touristy part of the beach that will sometimes give the boys leftover cookies at the end of the day, if the owner’s wife is the one working the till. Reggie loves to stare into the glass cases filled with with gorgeously decorated cakes and cupcakes, but he’s never been able to afford any of them.

And Luke bought two of them. For Reggie’s birthday.

Reggie can feel tears start to gather at the corner of his eyes and Luke gets a panicky look on his face.

“No, wait, don’t cry, dude! Don’t pull an Alex on me—”

“Shut up, I’m not crying,” Reggie says thickly, wiping at his face. “Give me a cupcake.”

“Gotta make a wish and blow out your candles first.”

Reggie carefully considers his wish. There’s so many things he wants to do with his life — he wants to learn to play every instrument out there and win a Grammy and meet Dolly Parton — but one look at Luke’s face in the candlelight, eyes bright and smile so soft and genuine, and Reggie know exactly what to wish for.

Please, let me stay with him. Forever.

Reggie blows out his candles and laughs at the look on Luke’s face when he accidentally blows some spit at him. But Luke still hands over a cupcake and Reggie sits up properly to eat it, taking a huge bite out of the mountain of swirled frosting and dark red cake.

The sweetness of the cream cheese frosting explodes across his tongue, followed by the smooth cocoa flavor of the cake. Reggie moans. It tastes like heaven. Better than he could have ever imagined.

Luke is staring at him, frozen with his mouth open, halfway to taking a bite when Reggie looks over at him and gives him a weird look.

“Dude, what are you doing? You have to try this, it’s amazing,” he manages to get out through a mouthful of cupcake.

“Haha, yeah, right, right,” Luke shakes his head and then starts eating his own cupcake, some wild mess of chocolate chips and sprinkles that looks delicious but not as good as the one Reggie has in his hands.

After they’ve devoured the sweets and licked the wrappers, Reggie flops back on to the blanket, a warm, full feeling settling in his gut as he stares up at the few stars that are visible through the LA smog.

“Red velvet is my favorite cake flavor,” Reggie says, “How did you know that?”

Luke gives him a weird look over his shoulder and finishes stuffing their trash back in his bag to deal with later.

“Because I know you, dude,” Luke says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, as he lays down with his head pillowed on Reggie’s stomach.

Oh. That’s not a bad feeling, being known like this, if Luke is the one doing the knowing. Reggie wouldn’t mind Luke knowing everything about him. He wouldn’t mind that at all.