Chapter Text
“I know you’re spoken for, Ray, but let me tell you that you should wish you were me right now,” Olson brags as they approach the dining hall for breakfast. If he’s usually at a 10, today he’s at a 20, dragging Ray out of bed for a report on his night.
“Hey, I’m NOT spoken for, but I’m glad it went so well. Though I think you kinda owe me an apology for thinking I was bein’ some conniving asshole,” Ray responds, slapping him upside the head as he holds the door open and lets Olson shuffle in before him. As they wait in line for Olson’s complicated coffee order, he goes on the sappiest rant ever heard by mankind.
Clementine is a forensic science major, which apparently made for a long and intimate conversation about their shared love for gritty crime dramas and podcasts about unsolved murders & mysteries. She likes scary movies and stoner comedies and loud music and exploring the city. Olson brags that she not only isn’t turned off by his crude sense of humor, but dishes out plenty of it herself. They've already discussed going to homecoming the following weekend.
“She is FUNNY, Ray. You’ve never met a girl this funny before. Hey. Look at me, Ray,” he reaches up and grabs Ray’s chin, turning his face toward him. Ray laughs and swats him off. “You were right, okay? That what you want to hear? Christ’s sake.”
As they sit down with their drinks, Olson continues on with his romantic tale, and Ray’s heart swells very genuinely at Olson’s happiness. He can’t help but be amused that this alleged soulmate has come in the form of a 6’1 rock-and-roll girl so enamored with him from a distance that she sought him out herself. It’s what he deserves.
Ray is listening & engaged until his phone buzzes.
ART, OLSON, PETE
Pete - 10:23am
filling in for a gig spot at greyhound with art tonight. yall wanna come?
Ray sits up in his seat, a jolt striking him head to toe. Besides carefully cultivating playlists and dispatching them to the general public, Pete has also expressed his passion for singing and playing guitar. His foster parents got him a guitar for his 11th birthday, and it quickly became his escape, favorite pastime, and greatest talent. Ray has wondered what he’s like when he plays since learning that, and even more so after seeing the guitar in his room. He doesn’t want to miss the opportunity to find out.
Ray - 10:25am
I can be there
When he looks back up from his phone, Olson is giving him a sarcastic resigned stare.
“You textin’ your boyfriend instead of listenin’ to me? You’re breakin’ my heart, Ray,” he says with a groan. But, he’s smirking smugly.
Ray grimaces, putting his phone face down on the table. “Sorry.”
“You’re good. You been listenin’ to me talk long enough anyway,” he says, picking up his phone.
Olson - 10:27am
awww is my boy gettin back on the bass??? <3 ill come too
Olson renamed the chat - “musketeers :o)”
“How’s all that going, by the way?”
Ray’s heart rate spikes at the thought of his afternoon with Pete the day before, and he bites back a smile. “Kinda good, actually,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee and avoiding eye contact.
“Atta boy, Ray!” he exclaims. “Pete’s a good guy. Art’s been having fun with him. He’s no Clementine, but he’s alright.” He takes a bite of his egg & cheese sandwich and squints, spotting something over Ray’s shoulder.
“Hey, no fuckin’ way. I didn’t know Stebbins and Harkness were a thing.” Ray follows Olson’s nod and sees the guy from the dorm lobby outside the entrance to the dining hall, still with the same hat & toothpick. He’s even taller than Ray thought, and he stands with his arm around the waist of a much shorter guy with a pretty, pinched face and thick-rimmed glasses. He kisses the top of the boy’s head and they part ways.
Olson raises his eyebrows. “Who’d have thought I'd be the only one getting any ladies around here?”
“I’ll be back in a second,” Ray says, pushing away from the table and following Stebbins to the back of the food line. He idly grabs an apple to put on his plate, calculating the right combination of words to not piss this guy off.
“Hey, I never got to thank you for stickin’ it to Barkovitch,” he blurts, and Stebbins turns around. He has the stony face and build of a male model, and his quiet intensity makes Ray’s stomach churn.
“All good,” Stebbins says curtly.
“I’m Ray, by the way.”
“I know. I’ve seen your name on your door.” He has an accent Ray can’t quite put his finger on, one he hadn’t noticed the first night. Ray clears his throat, not sure if he should continue. This guy’s not making it easy.
“He just hasn’t gotten to know your old pal Hank Olson. I bet the big baby just needs a friend!”
What the hell, he’s been on a lucky stretch with making friends recently. Maybe it’s time to take a page out of Olson’s book.
“I saw you come in with Harkness, he lives down the hall from me. I didn’t realize you knew each other.” Stebbins scoffs.
“My boyfriend, Richie? Yeah, I’ve got a passing familiarity.”
Ray thinks of Stebbins’ response to Barkovitch that night, the anger and defensiveness in his voice. Combined with the tender forehead kiss he just saw outside, Ray feels a sudden rush of respect for him - but it’s also mixed with some sorrow. “Has Barkovitch given you guys trouble before?” he asks.
“I don’t have time for homophobic shit,” Stebbins mumbles. “I don’t know if he even means what he says or if he just can’t help being an asshole, but Richie’s had a hard enough time being gay, never mind trans. Walker’s his new start. I came a long way to go here with him and I’m not lettin’ some asshole fuck it up.” A look passes over Stebbins’ face as though he’s said more than he intended, but he continues down the line, picking things off onto his plate.
“That’s really good of you,” Ray says. Stebbins looks like there's something else he wants to say, but just gives another quick nod. Ray nods back, figuring this may be as far as he’ll get with him.
He steps away to return to his table, but has one last idea.
“We got some friends playing a gig at Greyhound tonight. If you wanna come.” Stebbins looks up, and Ray shrugs. “If you two are lookin’ for folks to hang out with here, I know a few good ones.”
He still can’t get a smile out of him, but he’s satisfied with what he does get. “Thank you, Ray.”
Ray returns to his table, setting the plate down. Olson stares at him.
“The fuck you get one apple for?”
___
Greyhound is a small bar around the corner from campus, only big enough for the bar, 8 tables, and a small area in the corner where local bands play seven days a week. The place is packed almost every night. The band scheduled to play had bailed for the evening, and the owner pulled Pete’s name off the contact sheet, where he submitted it when he came to campus for the first time. Ray doesn’t see him when he enters with Olson, but does see Art chatting with Tressler, another guy that Ray had met in passing from Art and Pete’s hall, and the dark-haired guy that Ray recognizes from outside Pete’s room yesterday. Art sets up a bass guitar, and Tressler sits at the drums.
Ray surveys the room. In the back corner opposite them, Stebbins and Harkness sit side by side in a booth. Harkness holds his phone between the two of them, and they share a set of earbuds. Harkness is laughing at whatever’s on the phone, but Stebbins is looking at him, smiling softly. So he does know how to do that.
He looks up and catches Ray’s eye, shrugging and giving him the smallest of smiles too. Even if they weren’t ready to approach the group, they showed up. That’s enough for Ray.
Olson sprints to Art, gushing about his return to music. Apparently, Art had played bass for the school band until his sophomore year of high school, when he quit to focus on his honors classes. He hasn’t played since, and it’s serious for Olson.
The dark-haired guy looks Ray up and down out of the corner of his eye.
“Hey. You were at Pete’s yesterday,” he says, pulling out a cigarette and dangling it from his lips. His well-worn denim jacket was probably blue once, but has gone a soft grey. Around his neck is what looks like a large animal tooth on a leather strap, and his hair is intricately braided on each side of his head, joined together in a long braid down his back. Ray wonders if Pete did it.
“Yeah. Collie, right?” The guy nods, flicking a lighter to the end of the cigarette and covering it with his hands.
“You seein’ him?” Collie asks, taking a drag and turning his head to blow the smoke away from Ray. Ray stands up straighter, clearing his throat.
“Oh, uh… no, we’ve just been hanging out. We’re just friends.” Ray’s eyes widen as a sudden thought passes over him. “Are you?”
Collie barks out a laugh, coughing twice on the smoke.
“No. We were roommates during freshman orientation and just stuck it out after that. My sister always did my hair when I was home, she obviously can’t while I’m here so he started doin’ it for me.” He takes another drag. “Don’t worry man, relax. He’s all yours.”
Ray’s heart stutters. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know what YOUR whole situation is, but whatever you said to him yesterday did a number on him. Fucked up my braid twice.” He gives him a do-with-that-what-you-will shrug and turns back to Tressler.
Processing Collie’s information, Ray pulls Olson back to the table closest to the band area to let Art finish setting up. He can’t help but feel a sense of pride, imagining Pete turning his words over in his head that much.
So that was a good line.
As if on queue, Pete rushes in through the side door holding a brown electric guitar in one hand and a pick between his teeth. He quickly plugs the guitar in and gives a hurried apology to Art and Tressler, and Collie joins Ray and Olson at their table. Pete glances up at them but quickly looks away, giving a few test strums to the guitar before Tressler lays down their beat.
The song is a soft alternative R&B number, with a steady beat and wavy guitar. The muscles in Pete’s arms flex gently with every strum, and Ray holds his breath when he leans in towards the microphone.
I’m so into you
But I don’t know where I’ve been
I just want you to
To take me where you heart is
All of Ray’s wondering hadn’t prepared him for how this would make him feel. Pete is completely in his element. His hands clip gracefully across the neck of the guitar, his face scrunching and softening as he plays different chords. His voice is soft with a scratchy edge, hitting the song’s high notes in a way Ray wouldn’t have expected he could. Under the blue spotlight, he is exactly where he belongs, doing exactly what he was meant to do.
Olson nudges Ray’s side with a smirk, but he’s too entranced to even notice.
And you’re made wonderful
I would never want you to
feel like you could never be right
Pete looks up and locks eyes with Ray. It makes his stomach jump, and he knows he should shift his eyes somewhere else. But he can’t. He breathes out as they hold each other’s gaze.
Pete smiles at him.
Love is all you want
I would never do you wrong
Hold it down and give me some time
In the moment, all that exists for Ray is Pete and the feeling of his own heartbeat, scraping and clawing to get to him.
He’s all in.
____________________________________________________________________________
At the end of their set, Ray lingers a few steps back from Collie and Olson as they chat and help pack up. Olson, who doesn’t miss a thing, takes a chance on his wingman dreams.
“Hey, not too shabby, McVries,” he says, pulling Ray forward and clapping him on the back. “Consider us fans.” Ray's face burns as Pete turns his attention to him.
“Why thank you, Olson. How kind of you to show up, Garraty,” he says, zipping the guitar into a black padded case and swinging it over his shoulder. “Your feedback is valuable to me.”
“You didn’t tell me you were good or anything like that,” Ray says, more shyly than he intends. Pete beams.
“You’re a dear boy, Ray,” he says. “But I’ll be real with you, I wish I hadn’t asked you to come.” Ray’s chest tightens, but Pete’s still smiling.
“You’re distracting.” He picks up the small amp and lightly checks Ray’s shoulder with his own, pushing out the side door and leaving Ray staring after him.