Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The school is exactly how Michael remembers it from the year before: huge, with a rolling lawn in front and a fountain surrounded by a swamp of kids that hate him. The building itself screams institution, white cinder block walls, four stories to a flat roof. Behind the main school is the recreational commune, a circle of five metal buildings housing the separate gymnasiums and the pool. Student parking is to the left, a massive sheet of pavement. Mirovale Charter School is a massive place, containing a full high school, middle school, and elementary, with a limited preschool department.

Michael Phelps and his sisters have been attending Mirovale since they turned 5. Back then, their mother Debbie Phelps was working as a 10th Grade Chemistry teacher, so it was only logical for her to send all three of her young children to her own school. Michael can still vividly remember playing on the floor of her room while she tutored kids after school, sometimes as late as 6:00. He'd hated it. Twelve years later and he has to admit that he'd rather she went back to teaching Chemistry.

"Don't forget to stop by mom's office and get your planner," says Michael's older sister, Whitney Phelps. She is bent forward, one elbow resting on the curved bar of the steering wheel, separating her eyelashes one by one with her longest fake fingernail. She's skinny, in a bright red crop top and a pair of highwaisted skinny jeans, with some faux gold bangles rattling down her wrist.

Michael is in last year's Jordans and a pair of khaki cargo shorts. His t shirt is from last year's Sophmore car wash with a big Mirovale shark on the back. His backpack is last year's too, plain black.

A 2014 Chevrolet Impala pulls into the empty space to their left and Whitney shoos Michael with her hands, "Gabby's here. Get out."

Gabby Douglas, Senior MCS cheerleading captain, hops out of the Chevy. Her box braids are down to her ass, and she flips them back over one shoulder, looking down at Michael like he's a bug. Her shorts are way too short for the first day of school, but that's none of his business anyway. Looking down at the ground, Michael opens the passenger door and slips out past her in the space between their two vehicles. Gabby doesn't thank him, just slides into his empty seat and shuts the door behind her with a click, settling in for a gossip session with Whitney.

Michael cuts across the lawn, dragging his feet quite a bit through the grass. Unlike Whitney, he doesn't really fit into any of the groups at school. Even though he's not exactly openly homosexual, the other students have always... treated him differently. As if they could sense something was special about him. If nothing else, that can make you feel like kind of a loner.

As he nears the fountain and main steps, the crackle of the overhead intercom speakers draws everyone's attention. It's the MCS Broadcasting Crew of course, back for another year of nauseatingly boring messages.

"Welcome back, sharks!" The intercom crackles, " Student body president here, Caroline Burkle, hoping you had a fab summer! To all our Freshman and transfer students, a help seminar is being held in the basketball gym. If you'd like to attend, just make your way to the Athletics Complex, where you-"

A group of girls near Michael burst out laughing, baring their teeth in an imitation of Caroline's smile. She isn't particularly well-liked, what with being the student body president. He's half-listening to the announcements, most of them exactly the same as last year's, when Caroline's voice over the intercom is drowned out by the pumping of a bass and the distinct sound of Rae Sremmurd. Michael's head turns with about sixty others, just in time to see a black Escalade park in a senior spot.

The passenger door opens first and Cullen Jones hops out, opening the backseat door on his way past it so that Kyle Deery can get out. Both of them are dressed in all new school clothes, shiny sneakers so fresh that the toes don't even crease. Several eyes watch Kyle and Cullen walk across the grass, two of the most popular boys in the entire school, but Michael waits.

The car cuts off a second later and the driver side door opens. Ryan Steven Lochte steps out and Michael's whole chest constricts.

For years, Michael has had a secret obsession with Ryan Lochte. Out of all the boys in the school, Michael thinks Ryan is surely the handsomest. He's tan and freckled, with blue eyes and six pack abs, with the added benefits of being rich and popular too.... who wouldn't want Ryan Lochte? He's flawless. He's everything Michael has ever fantasized about.

He might as well not even know Michael exists.

"Deery!" Ryan calls and tosses his head, curly hair bouncing out of his eyes. He scratches his chest through the thin cotton of his white t shirt. Michael can practically hear the school's female population melting, and he tries not to let it show that he's sort of melting with them. When Ryan ducks his head to whisper in Kyle's ear, curls bobbing down over his beautiful face, Michael turns away and keeps walking.

He's barely even made it to the locker room before she pops up.

"Michael, honey, here's your planner. I taped a copy of your schedule in front." Debbie Phelps is all dressed up for the first day of school and, predominantly, the first PTO meeting of the year which will take place after. Her sweater actually has red apples printed all over it.

Michael grinds his teeth together, scanning the numbers on the lockers until he spots his locker... right by his mother's office door. His expression darkens considerably.

"Seriously?" He glares daggers at his mother. A group of students glide past behind them and laugh. Michael flushes red automatically, even though it probably wasn't directed at him.

Debbie hesitates, "...I just want to keep an eye on you this year. That's all."

"Mom, please," Michael gives her an exasperated look, "Things are bad enough already without being two feet from your door. This is only gonna make it worse."

Debbie Phelps sighs, fighting off her principal voice and replacing it with her mom voice, "....Okay, I'll straighten it out." She reaches out a hand to ruffle his hair, but Michael steps away too quick.

"I need to find my first class."

And then he's just another backpack.

His first class after home room is A Period Spanish. Michael thinks it's some world record that he's been at school less than an hour and he already wants to kill himself. He sits down in the third desk; not the first (too nerdy) and not the fourth (too far back for him to ever manage to concentrate). He figures it can't get any worse than Spanish in the morning, so at least there's that.

Too bad it gets worse.

"So there I am, naked from the waist down-" Ryan Lochte and his friends come in like a wave, filling everyone in the room with a sense of awe and purpose. Ryan is right in the middle of some story about his birthday party, which took place literally two days ago, August 3rd, the Saturday before school. It goes without saying that Michael wasn't invited.

Kyle Deery, Ryan's best friend, next-door-neighbor and confidante, is the one being spoken to. He's right at Ryan's side, as usual. Just about the same height as Ryan, he's paler and a bit lankier, with a short crop of straight brown hair and a some peach fuzz on his upper lip.

Ryan looks damn good in a slouchy pair of red jeans and a plain white tee with a red hat to match. One of Michael's favorite things about him are his broad shoulders, and they're looking particularly good under the thin stretched cotton of his Hanes. He knows he's staring, and usually he can stop himself from doing that, but not today. Not when Ryan is so luminous, like he soaked up all the summer sun an hour before school. Not when he's flashing his teeth in a perfect smile and sitting down in the fourth desk of the aisle to Michael's left.

"Shit was fuckin' crazy, I gotta agree." Kyle is saying, laughing at Ryan's story. His eyes shift right and make direct contact with Michael's, catching him in the act of staring, "What're you looking at, Dumbo?"

Dumbo. It's unoriginal, but it still stings. Michael wishes he could tape his ears down without anyone noticing, or just get them surgically removed. It's even worse when Ryan glances his way, those bright blue eyes giving him a quick once over before... dismissing him. The boys continue their conversation without even expecting an answer.

Michael looks hard in the opposite direction. But turning his face away can't stop how ashamed he feels inside, how badly he wishes he could crawl out of his own body.

Basically, school sucks. It's been steadily sucking for awhile now, since Michael came out of the closet really. Michael figured out he was gay pretty early, because it really doesn't take that many crushes to figure something like that out. In a house full of women, he didn't feel much pressure to hide his real self. No, that didn't come til middle school.

But now it's junior year and they're still calling him Dumbo, and he's still 100% invisible to Ryan Lochte. In all honesty though, Michael has resigned himself to his own destiny. He's accepted the tragedy that is his high school career.

And then Erik Vendt fell down the stairwell and broke two bones in his leg in half, and the swim team went into cardiac arrest.