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Etho.
Joel didn’t think it was possible to hate somebody more. Yet here he is.
Etho’s a new kid; he only joined their school about four months ago, but he’s already steadily rising through the ranks of popularity. And by ‘steadily’ Joel means hella fast—unnaturally fast at that, for somebody with no special abilities and a good-for-nothing attitude. Joel really doesn’t understand why so many people like him. Sure, he’s tall, smart, and mysterious in a way that wasn’t too off-putting. But even so.
There’s nothing too spectacular about the guy that Joel can see, so he can’t possibly imagine where all the ruckus about him is coming from.
Girls, giggling in the hallways, chittering away about ‘Perfect Prince Etho’—as he has now been officially labeled. Joel hasn’t heard of a dumber nickname since perhaps the days Skizz was still in school, because why in the entire universe would you call someone ‘Prince’?
It was like the world rotated around Etho and Etho only, every person without exception falling for his charm. He did everything right. Never a single mistake, never a slip-up or a line out of place. Etho just was, and somehow everyone was content with that.
Teachers favored him in class. Students invited him to sit with them at lunch. Boys cheered for him when he scored a hoop in basketball like he’d just won the fucking Olympics.
Basketball was Joel’s sport. It still is. He isn’t going to be beaten by a suck-up.
Everybody had known Joel—the star of their basketball team, fast and strong, practically elite in how he played. But now that Etho joined, he’s got the obvious advantage with how outrageously tall he is, and all everybody can do is drool about how Prince Perfect looks in a tank top.
And just to stoke the flame brighter, he also does extremely well in class. He’s very brainy, a star student. That, plus being athletic and with an undeniably good character and looks? A dream crush, if not for the fact that he was just a giant fake.
He is too calm, too predictable and unnatural in the way he does things.
There’s no spark to him, no...beauty.
So really, what was there to like in the first place?
It’s been four months like this already. Four awful months of ‘Etho this’ and ‘Etho that’. Joel’s sick of it all, sick of being treated as a second to Etho to even his best friends, sick of being overshadowed by a guy that really is a massive jerk and Joel can’t see why nobody but him has figured it out yet.
And now that Etho has officially joined his friend group… Well, to put it simply, Joel’s head is about to fly off.
It feels like he stole away his friends, stole the people who were supposed to be there for him, especially at a time like this. He knows that’s not actually the case—that neither Jimmy nor Grian nor even Oli like him any less than before, but it still feels like a betrayal.
And maybe things were going badly at school. So? Joel had dealt with plenty in his past already. He thought he’d handle it. But now, to add onto Joel’s accumulating agony, Etho’s influence has also entered the relative peace of his house, and he can’t really hide it. Things are getting rough.
His parents never really cared much for Joel, not with him being their fourth kid and one of the most chaotic and loud. They let him do as he wanted, rarely truly taking notice, just as long as he stuck with the family reputation, as long as he kept up good grades and behaved—even partially—in accordance to society. So when Joel’s grades started dropping, going from excellent to moderate, they were furious. He’d thought it wouldn’t be a big deal, just him losing the top student title to Etho—no matter how much it aggravated him, he had thought it wouldn’t matter to anybody else—but his parents were livid. He’d dealt with it, just like he’s dealing with so much else, but it had left another hollowness inside him that couldn’t be replaced.
It isn’t that he’s alone. He is still Joel Smallish-fucking-Beans, after all. That hasn’t changed.
But, Etho.
Etho is everywhere and everything. Additional fire to the already slowly burning hole inside him. Exposing his faults and insecurities in front of everyone, dragging his friends away from him bit by bit.
Prince Etho, perfect ruddy Etho.
Joel tries not to let it get to him. But, he’s failing. He’s failing, and he hates it. Hates him. If he doesn’t do anything soon, if he doesn’t get his head out of that dark corner, and as fast as possible, Joel isn’t sure there is much he’d be able to do to help himself.
He’s just so done at this point. So done with Etho, so done with school, so done with his friends not understanding his shitty situation, done with his own incompetence and done with the fact that Etho simply might just be better. Joel doesn’t think he can handle another interaction with him without blowing up.
And he’s sulking now, he knows, but bloody hell, how else was he supposed to rid himself of all his troubles? Why couldn’t a car just drive Etho over?
Unfortunately life was never the one to throw him bones, so Joel just had to get his own, one way or another.
He knows what he has to do to get retribution, and he’s sure he will. He’ll show Etho. Good grace, he’ll show him.
___
When Joel comes to school the following morning, the first thing he does is head for his locker, as usual, to drop off his stuff. And, even though he spent all last night thinking, it’s still hard to get back on track. He doesn’t have a plan in mind—he’s not really one to do that—the only thing keeping him moving is the anger that he has slowly built up from the moment of Etho’s arrival.
He deposits his backpack and gathers his things for his first class, glancing away and beginning a swift pace in the opposite direction the second he hears voices at the end of the hall.
It might not be Etho, it might not even be somebody intolerable, but Joel doesn’t dare cross anybody right now. He’s unsure of what the consequences might be, but he knows it won’t be pretty.
Joel enters his first class in an uncharacteristically quiet huff—late, of course—turning away from getting people’s attention and deciding to strut to the back of the classroom to collapse his things on his chair.
Half of the class is missing, as per usual, since nobody really bothers arriving on time. Pearl is one of the few already inside, raising an unbothered eyebrow at him as he enters the vicinity.
”Somebody's in a foul mood,” she comments. The fucking audacity.
“Yeah, well, when am I not?” Joel snaps back, mentally digging his fingernails into his thighs for being so damn irritable.
Pearl just shrugs in response. “Fair enough mate. You do you.”
Joel wants to apologise, though he clearly did nothing wrong. He decides to keep his mouth shut, his head tilted high. Etho might be trying to break his morale, but soon enough Joel would break something else of Etho’s—and he knows he’ll spectacularly enjoy it.
Speak of the devil, here he comes.
Etho enters the classroom, walking with a leisurely, unconcerned pace that always drives Joel up the wall. All tall masculine energy and wafty perfumes. Joel thinks he might just take his chance then and there, while the idiot is not suspecting.
The older boy gives Joel a speculative glance from the bridge of his nose, smiling quietly before taking his seat, not a word exchanged between them as Joel glares back.
Lord forbid, Joel would have jumped him there and then if not for Mr.-Fucking-Marcus, who decides it’s the perfect time to stroll into the class he should have started fifteen minutes ago. Joel seethes, lowering himself back onto the seat from which he had subconsciously risen.
But, perhaps his teacher does arrive in time, because Joel isn’t sure he wants to start this fight in a classroom full of Ethogirls. Maybe. Maybe.
Joel isn’t even sure he wants this fight in the first place (Who knew how good a punch Prince Perfect could throw?), but he wasn’t backing down now that he made up his mind. Considering, the tall doofus probably has some martial art up his belt to add onto the insufferable list of things he’s good at. Joel—spare him your judgement—doesn’t care. He just wants Etho out of his life.
___
The class is uneventful. As any other class is, that is. In truth, the whole school day is boring and uneventful. And no matter how much Joel spews around obscenities and hatred about taking Etho on, he never really has the moment to do it (not because he lacks the guts, mind you).
Joel’s just walking from his locker to the large terrace in front of the school, ready for afternoon break, when he hears voices in the corridor out front, pausing mid step from where he was swinging around his bag waiting for Jimmy to get out of his previous class.
Joel halts, feeling slightly ignominious as he realizes it's a group of girls huddled just around the corner. He stops and listens, not intruding on their business but not disregarding their talk either.
Though, they’re discussing something that sounds very much like boy-talk, and Joel isn’t quite sure whether he should keep moving down the hall or not. Feeling his ears slightly redden, he nonetheless refuses to back away, forcing his steps back into line as he heads out.
That’s when he hears her.
Joel’s sure it’s her, she’s impossible to miss. An unmistakably tuney laugh and melodic voice, beautiful, always so elegant and beautiful. Pink hair and a wide, mischievous smile. Joel starts forward faster on instinct, unable to keep himself away. Pearl is there too, it seems, along with False and somebody else Joel can’t quite see yet.
”Would you really do that though? I don’t think he’d appreciate it much.”
Joel catches snippets of conversation but pays them little mind. What was Lizzie doing here? He hasn’t seen her in a while, he needs to-
Oh. Oh.
No, no, that can’t be.
That was unmistakably Lizzie’s voice. But she didn’t just- Oh god.
Joel blinks rapidly, unable to process what he just heard; stunned out of his mind. Bitterness quickly gathers at the edges of his vision and inside his mouth and Joel inhales, his heart hammering.
Lizzie and her friends were definitely talking about all that, relationships and dirty little secrets. Joel was sure he’d heard her mention Etho. Something about him in a discrete, playful cadence.
This couldn’t be happening… Could it? But of course it could. Of course Etho would ruin even this part of his life. Of course he’d make sure that Joel didn’t even get an ounce of his happiness, of his previous life back. Without another step forward, Joel silently turns on his heel and walks back down the corridor, his face stony still.
He throws the first unlocked door he can find open, jamming it shut behind him as he enters. He breathes, loud and hard, teeth gritted in a puzzled frown. Naturally this could just have been a mention in passing, but Joel knows it wasn’t that. If she liked him—
Hands clenched into fists, Joel leans his whole body against the wall, literally shaking with suppressed anger.
He was going to kill that washed idiot; repercussions were for the weak.
Joel swears under his breath, his vocal cords contracting around the word.
Because why? Why Lizzie?
His heart aches at the thought of her with Etho, him left forgotten and thwarted by the rest of his friends. And it hurts. To know that the last person he was sure would be on his side had turned against him. They’d known each other for so long, they’d shared so many moments together. Joel was just taking his time, gathering the courage to ask her out. But no, Etho has to go and ruin Joel’s and Lizzie’s relationship as well.
Soon enough, Joel’s levelled out his breathing again, thoughts all over the awful things he could do to him. A plan is already beginning to form, something including a lot of humiliation and emotional stress in front of the school.
Joel’s moved to one of the empty desks, even going as far as to grab a paper and pencil to write down his thoughts. He’s not the best artist, nor does he have good handwriting, but that’s really besides the point.
He doesn’t care about class anymore, the vengeance is reignited with a fervent intensity inside him, Lizzie’s confession his final straw. Joel sits on his plan for what could have been anything from fifteen minutes to an hour, his things abandoned on the floor beside him, Jimmy be damned.
Just when Joel is certain he’s almost finished, the door to the classroom creaks open.
Head snapping up from where he was not doodling in the margins, Joel eyes the entering figure. His blood runs cold, hackles rising.
Etho slips inside, the outrageous coincidence making Joel want to hurl his body through the window. Flipping his page over, he jumps to his feet, eyes narrowed, poised to fight or flight.
Etho blinks as he sees him, head tilting to the side as he smiles beneath his mask.
”Hey Joel!” he greets jovially, a large, long case at his side that he places on a nearby desk, closing the door with a click. ”What are you doing here?”
”I could ask you the same thing, Slab.”
Etho curiously observes the paper, eyebrows raised, “Are you drawing?”
“Wha-“ Joel splutters, confused and enraged about his unexpected entrance, wondering the best way to attack. “No!”
Somehow ignorant of his radiating fury, Etho takes a couple of steps closer, still wearing that punchable look of interest.
“Can I help?”
Joel on the defensive, he takes a cautionary step back as the other takes one forward, not able to reach his desk in time to prevent the following.
Etho grabs the parchment, ringed fingers clasping gently around it as he turns it over to peek at the other side. Joel, fully horrified, snatches at his half-formed plans, tearing the paper away, but not before Etho has a chance to take a look.
“Is-“ his mask shifts, his mouth opening in surprise and delight, “Is that me?”
Joel is going to internally combust.
He’d drawn a miniature chibi version of Etho—his version a lot more accurate than what he’d seen Bdubs do, by the way—with tiny X’s for eyes and a frowning face. But Joel hasn’t drawn him.
Fine, yes he has, but for the plan only—this conversation was just leading his anger off-track.
Etho looks flattered nonetheless and Joel wants to slap the expression away.
“What did you come to ruin this time?” Joel spits at him. He’s not sure what sort of question that is, but it feels appropriate in the moment. His head twitches as Etho’s flattered look turns puzzled. Like the idiot really doesn’t think he did anything wrong.
And it wasn’t just the ruddy paper. Everything. Like Etho didn’t know how much Joel couldn’t stand breathing the same air as him, never mind talking to him.
“Sorry?” Etho asks, his eyebrows furrowed into a look of confusion. Even that looks good. Bah! How could anybody look so good without even trying?
Joel shakes his head in disbelief; disgust. He is doing everything in his power just not to ram a fist into Etho’s stomach, to watch in glee how his perfect face contorts in pain.
“What do you want?!” Joel finally snaps, unable to contain himself. If Etho doesn’t go in the next five minutes, Joel’s patience will run out and he will have an awesome excuse to go straight for him. Hasty jumping into action was his thing; plan or no plan. “Go. Leave.”
Etho turns to look at him, looking pleasantly uncomfortable.
“I- Well, I usually use this classroom to practice violin after lunch,” Etho informs, a tentative look on his face, like he was approaching a wild animal.
—On the other hand, Joel doesn’t think he would mind attacking him here and now.
“Leave me alone,” he emphasises, growling in frustration when Etho just seems bashfully deterred, not a foot back in the direction of the locked door.
But violin? Seriously? Who was this guy? All Joel wanted was to grab the expensive instrument from Etho and throw it across the room. To watch it shatter, to break something of Etho’s; to openly express just how much he hurt.
But that would be admitting his instability. Showing just how much this affects him. That would make the already bleeding wound just that much worse.
“Go find yourself another classroom.” Joel barks, hoping to silence the pain with raw anger. He turns to the window, keeping his gaze on the floor. He doesn’t care where Etho goes, he wants him to get the hell out of his life. To stop meddling in things that were none of his ruddy business.
“Joel…” Etho starts, his already deep voice reducing to even lower octaves. “Are you okay?”
Joel bristles at how soft Etho’s voice is, how gentle he sounds.
Why was he trying to be kind? Why, when he’d ruined so many things already?
“I’m fine! Are you deaf? Go. Away.” He fires, repeating.
“No, Joel, really, is everything fine? What’s wrong?”
Joel’s patience is a ticking bomb, and the timer has just been swiped down to the last seconds.
Etho moves forward, concerned.
Joel quite literally explodes.
“You! That’s what’s wrong! Don’t you see? You’ve ruined everything!” Joel spins on him. He jabs a finger into Etho’s chest, who’s standing a lot closer now.
Etho, the blummin’, awful, godsforsaken idiot he is, stares at him in bewilderment, hands flying up in the air in a proclamation of both his innocence and his surprise at the outburst.
“You show up to the school and now you’re suddenly everybody’s favorite!” Joel cries and he hates how pathetic that sounds outside of his head, even if it was exactly what Etho did. “And you keep stealing things that are mine.” He hisses, jabbing him harder, wanting to get a reaction better than just shock.
He wants Etho mad. Mad at him. He wants Etho to know just how much he loathes him. Hates every single darn thing about him.
“Tell me what I’ve done,” he says, head dipping as his eyes narrow, “I’ll do what I can to fix it, please don’t be–“
“Like you don’t fucking know!” Joel swears, lip curling.
Etho shakes his head, still confused, a frown now etched into his face below the mask. ”I-I really dont?” He stutters, taking a step back as Joel pokes him again. ”Joel really,” He encroaches, his expression giving way to a set determination as he asks, “What’s wrong? What did I do?”
Gulping a deep, exasperated breath, the brunette laughs. It’s mocking, deliberate; just like he’d wanted. Etho had to know he didn’t have everybody around his gloved finger. He wants nothing more than to grab the edges of his jacket, to shake Etho and to make him see.
“You know what?” He leers, taunting, “Everything. From the start of the year you’ve been paraded around like some icon, like you’re more than two bats in a trenchcoat pretending to be something you aren’t.
“I didn’t ask for any of it,” Etho shakes his head, eyes locked onto Joel’s. “And it’s not pretense. I am who I am Joel. I’m not sure where you got any of this, but I just wanted to make friends.” He pauses, waiting for his words to settle in the air. “I was new and insecure and everybody liked you. I wanted to be friends with you.”
Joel snorts, but inside, his heart stutters to a standstill. What did any of this actually mean?
He ignores his stupid heart. He’d given it enough control already.
“Like hell!” He sings, eyes rolling into the back of his skull, teeth baring as Etho dares take another step closer. “It didn’t turn out like you wanted, oh Mr. Perfect?” Etho flinches, visibly, and Joel’s grin widens, his furious flame finally taking something to consume. “Wanted to be a nobody did you? Don’t lie! You stole everything from me and you did it on purpose!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Etho’s voice rises now, to Joel’s great satisfaction —finally, finally a good response. “Joel please—“
“Every single friend. Every single person who’d liked me before, who’d known me. And then Lizzie…” Joel’s breath hitches, both dangerous and upset, “She was mine. Just like all the people who hang around you now, just like the grades you get, just like the goals you score. You ruined every aspect of my life! School and home, love and friends. This means war, Eefo.”
Etho’s expression drops, his eyebrows lifting as he opens his mouth to say something, but stays silent, close enough for Joel to see the creases crinkling his nose.
Joel hates that even in the middle of a fight, his beauty, his personality, remains adamant.
“Go!” He yells again, voice pitching so high he’s afraid he’ll be heard by the people next door and further on. “Go before I tear you apart like you did to me.” His voice breaks, the end all cracked and wrong.
For heaven’s sake! Why couldn’t he be tough when he needed to be?
Breathing hard, Joel looks away.
Etho stays where he is, just a foot away, unmoving and unmovable, no matter what life throws at him. A ship anchored deep below water, the rocks and crustaceans creating a net of protection around him so that not even the most unforgiving of storms will shift or damage him.
The room around them is silent. Not a leaf fluttering outside the window, not a soul talking in the halls outside. Joel glares up, Etho looks down on him. An emptiness has just been created in the middle of the space, a black hole of sorts, absorbing every noise.
“Are you done?” Etho asks, the black hole destroyed with just that. The words, to Joel’s utmost surprise, are not chiding; just a simple, quiet question.
Joel huffs, shooting him a dirty, loathing look.
Etho noiselessly slides even closer forward, resetting his violin case on the table, taking Joel’s lack of words for his fight running out, the dumbass.
Joel blinks in confusion when the older boy stops inches before him, not going for the hit like he’d been expecting. He clearly deserved it, for all the garbage he just spat in his face. But Etho doesn’t even raise a hand. Instead, he stills, his red and black eyes reflecting the light and hues of the trees outside, his hair shimmering gray and his face pointed toward the sun, golden streaks running down his masked cheeks. Joel can even see the the hints of freckles on his nose with their proximity.
Then, after what feels like an eternity of him just standing, debating, he takes one final step forward.
Betrayed by his own emotions—by his stupid, stupid heart, Joel doesn’t even resist as Etho’s arms tentatively come to rest around his shoulders. Joel blinks, mouth opening in a wordless protest. When he doesn’t move though, Etho pulls his own body close, wrapping his hands around Joel’s arms and carefully resting Joel’s head against his chest.
Joel’s too stunned to speak, his heart forgetting to beat for just a second. It thrums into life again, wild and confused as Etho rakes a hand through his brown locks, his arms tightening around him almost protectively.
Joel can feel the older’s breathing against his ear, short and layered, like Etho’s nervous and he doesn’t know what to do with himself, such a contrast to what the school’s opinion of him is.
His body is straight and grounded, but he sways gently from time to time, his sickly bleached hair ticking Joel’s nose.
Internally, Joel fights it all.
He screams and thrashes and throws insults at Etho, because he still hates him with a burning passion. But he’s too tired and too angry and the hug is so, so unexpected that he stays in place, not opposing in the slightest.
His own arms encircle Etho’s waist out of pure instinct—truly, nothing else—and Joel breathes in Etho’s scent as they embrace. He has the audacity to smell good too, oddly comforting, even Joel can’t deny that, his hands limp and his body now completely slouched against Etho as he takes deep wafts of his mildly lemony cologne.
“It’s alright.” Etho whispers to him, Joel’s eyes closing as long slender fingers massage his hair and scalp.
“No it’s not.” Joel grumbles against his chest, throwing everything in him at his hands, demanding they move and push Etho aside, but they stubbornly remain clutching at Etho’s back.
Treacherous tears start to brim his eyes, impossibly betraying him when all he needs is just a bit of courage. It’s just all so unexpected and unfair, because Etho was supposed to be mean and not…this.
“It’s okay, it’s fine Joel,” he repeats, heartbeat quick against Joel’s cheek. There’s so much emotion Etho’s emitting—almost enough to rival his own—the feelings flowing around him and squeezing Joel inside like his hug, awkward and unpleasant and unwanted.
But in the end, Joel’s just a liar.
Because that hug conveys so much and so little at the same time, but Joel knows it’s warm and pleasant and he really doesn’t want to push him away.
When the light hits his own tear-streaked face, and the sun's warmth trails down his back like Etho’s gentle, uncertain caress, Joel breaks down completely.
The shell he’d built around himself shatters, even though Etho barely did anything to create even a crack, just surrounded it in soft feathers—Joel single-handedly collapsing his protection to bits.
But the weird thing is: he doesn’t feel he needs it. Not in this room, not in this place, not with this unlikely person he swears he hates.
He cries, tears silently rolling down his cheeks and partially onto Etho’s gray sweater, wishing he wouldn’t have misjudged him so completely.
But Etho stays through it all.
He doesn’t leave, doesn’t flinch in disgust or back away. Still that same old boat, set in stone on the bottom of the deepest ocean.
“You’re going to be fine Joel. We’re all going to be fine.”
Etho pulls away a fraction, Joel looking up to gaze into his mismatched eyes, his own no doubt red from salty tears. An unsaid thing flashes between them, as material as a look can possibly be.
“I still hate you.” Joel whispers, and he can see the way Etho’s eyes crinkle in a smile in response.
Etho breaks the eye contact, the fabric of his mask pressing a kiss onto Joel’s forehead, Joel shivering as he feels the outline of Etho’s lips on his skin.
“I know Joel. I know.”