Chapter Text
Hunter and Skip were inseperable friends growing up. Best friends you could say. They were friends when Hunter first discovered Metal music and fell in love with it. Skip never got into it like Hunter did but he grew to appreciate the art and emotion behind it. And he was super excited for Hunter when he got his first electric guitar, a gift from his parents divorce. Something he helped Hunter with as much as he could. It's hard to sympathise with someone when you don't have their firsthand experience. But regardless, he was there for him and Hunter appreciated more than Skip would ever know.
But then high school rolled around and they were separated from each other like an invasive surgery. Skip started hating Hunter out of nowhere and it hurt like trying to play the chords of some kick-ass solo with cuts on your fingers. It stings. He missed what they had at first but he soon realised he needed to get over his love for his best friend. Or... ex best-friend. His love for metal music forced him into the outer circle and far away from Skip. And it was in this difficulty to get over Skip that he realised he had grown feelings for him. To Hunter, they weren't just friends and god that made it millions of times harder to shove down deep.
It didn't help that he would constantly catch Skip staring at him from across the classroom whenever he was alone with none of his new friends around him. Something about the look in his eyes told Hunter that it wasn't out of hate or judgement but what does Hunter know? He tried to be friends with him when they started school but Skip wouldn't let him in. He tried talking to him whenever they passed each other in the hall but would be met with stares and sneers. Not exactly the behaviour of someone who wants to be friends.
And here he is watching him be the life of the party, all the chicks flocking to him for his sharp features, deep voice, gorgeous baby blues and- oh my god, shut up Hunter!
Earlier this week Kevin had the spectacular idea to drag him along and accompany him to this party:
It was Wednesday morning, before class starts for the day and Hunter was over at his locker like every morning waiting to meet up with Kevin. He was fishing for something that had fallen behind his stack of unused textbooks, craning his arm down into the narrow gap, when Kevins calls out to him. Hunter peeks out from his locker and see Kevin walking towards him. Unfortunately, Skip of all people was quickly gaining on him, his eyes not focused on anything and not seeing Kevin what so ever. He points at Skip, hoping Kevin will turn around and move out of the way but he seemed to think Hunter was just pointing at him to point at him, pointing back with a grin. Boy was he wrong.
Kevin gets steamrolled by Skip as he strides past, not paying attention to his surroundings. I can't believe I was friends with that meathead. Hunter thinks quickly as he rushes over to help Kevin up. He reminds him how shitty Skip is and to not think about it, not letting his own facade of pure hatred slip. He's never told Kevin about their old 'acquaintanceship'. It's almost embarrassing to admit amidst all the shitty treatment they both cop. 'Yeah me and that fucktard used to be best friends!' No one would believe him anyway. So that's never gonna happen.
They both look over to Skip, as he is the topic of conversation after all, and overhear Clay Moss mention something of a party where everyone in the school is invited. Skips nods and says something, probably something dumb but he looks right over to Hunter and finds his eyes for a moment and they linger. A little longer than what is considered accidental.
Kevin clearly doesn't notice this glaringly obvious declaration of war and suggests something completely and totally insane:
"We should go to the party."
This is how Hunter finds himself standing all alone in the kitchen of some huge mansion on a Friday night. A Friday night he could be writing some hard fucking riffs but no. Kevin wanted to come to the party. Kevin wanted to get drunk and see what all the fuss was about. Kevin was the one needing a lift home after he drinks himself dead.
Speaking of Kevin, he hadn't seen him for a while. He must've gotten lost on the way to the other alcohol or something like that. Damn Kevin, making Hunter be his designated driver. You know, what if he wanted to have some fun? Smash a couple beers?! Ha. Yeah right. Fun at some party filled with drunk teenagers listening to this shitting band with a drummer who's high out of his miiiiiiind and a singer who can barely keep the tune? Yeah, real smashing time. Mollycoddle has nothing on what he and Kevin have, they have a real band. A serious band. Not some shitting indie cover band solely designed to attract girls like flies to shit. Talking about shit, he needs to find the bathroom. All those waters and non-alcoholic punches have finally passed through him.
He makes quick work of slinking through the crowd and thank god the bathroom was free. He ducks in quickly sensing he may lose this golden opportunity soon. Funny. The band finally sounds somewhat bareable now muffled by the bathroom door! Hunter finishes his business quickly but decides to hang around in here for a little longer, enjoy the quiet and alone time. Taking in all the detail in here. Nothing spectacular but it feels expensive and classy. Modern styling like he assumed some rich dickwads would do. Plenty boring if you asked him. Beige on grey and white. Topped off with the classic sickly sweet vanilla scent that everyone and their mothers swear by. God maybe he needs to leave now. He can already feel the boring beige-ness seeping into his skin.
But just as he opens the door he's met with none other than Skip barging right in. Looking him dead in the eye no less. As if he was waiting outside the door for Hunter to open the door.
"What the fu-" Hunter is interrupted by Skips warm palm shutting him up. In one quick movement, Skip had him back against the door, two soft clicks of the door closing and locking just by his hip. He was frozen for a moment from shock but his senses come back quick and he smacks Skips arm away from him. Ready to yell and scream and cuss him out. It's quite unnerving to have Skip be so close to him and not be preparing to be punched square in the face.
Then like a punch square in the face, Skip grabs the collar of Hunters shirt and plants his lips on Hunter's, who hesitates at first. It's a foreign feeling to be kissed with such force yet precision. But Skip was always like that, taking what he wanted with force and precision. Which meant this is something Skip wanted.
Which makes it something Hunter wants. And you only live once, right?
Like the flip of a switch, Hunter is kissing back, parting his lips to let Skip in, latching onto the edges of Skips flannel, trying to pull him impossibly closer. He's wanted this for a while now and he's going to make sure it lasts. The music behind his head is no longer as muffled as it was just before but the man in front of him is a much better distraction. And it's a surprise that he tastes of mint and not beer. He isn't sure if it's a good or bad one. It could mean a million different things. He's not doing this out of drunk ambition but sober want. Which feels alarming to say the least. Terrifying even. But Hunter never backs off from a challenge.
However, Skip is a different league of challenge. Especially when Hunter can't deny these feelings in his chest that refuse to be quashed. No amount of faux hatred will hold Hunter back from a damn good kiss. A good kiss with a man who smells of fresh linen and old spice, cutting through the sickly sweet vanilla; rendering him weak. Unable to fight back. He just wants to bury his face in his neck and find where the scent lies. He want's to get close enough so the scent transfers to his skin and he can smell Skip on him indefinitely. Have a constant reminder of this moment.
But it's short lived. When Skip finally pulls himself off Hunter, they're both breathing heavy and looking a little dazed. Skip even seemed to be sporting a surprised look on his face. Lips parted, pupils blown wide, the corners of his mouth quirked up. As if he wasn't expecting the kiss to be what it was. Was he pleasantly surprised? Hunter wanted to speak but his voice is gone. Caught in his throat. His childhood best friend who he, up until recently, wasn't consciously aware he was crushing on just kissed him in the bathroom of some high school party.
Skip. Just. Kissed. Him.
And it was so good. Hot. Everything. Not enough.
Fuck...
But before Hunter could make any further movement to try and kiss him back, Skip shoves him out of the way opening the door again and leaving. That same mask of hate and disgust put right back on. Was it a mask? Did he actually hate Hunter or was it all for show? God it's all so confusing! He wouldn't let Skip get too far without explaining himself so he storms after him, anger and confusion hitting him like he just bumped a line.
"Skip! What the fuck was that!?" He yells after him but he's barely audible over the earrape that is that dumb band and their super pumped bass. But all Skip did was meet his eyes for a split second at every turn they took, ignoring Hunters screams and questions. He didn't realise he was leading him straight to his goons until he stops dead, Hunter crashing into his back. Skips turns around, grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him beside him.
"Hey, he just called you a dipshit!" Skips calls out to his football buddies, pushing Hunter over in their direction. Hunter tries to stutter out some defence. He didn't just call this dude a dipshit, thank you very much, but to no avail.
"What did you call me?" The goon on the right in a yellow letterman spits in his face as he grabs him in by the collar but only holding him for a moment before tossing him over to the next guy.
"I didn't say anything to anybody, I swear!" Hunter pleads.
"Yeah, you did." Skip says matter-of-factly; his finger finding him accusingly.
The other boy tosses him right back to Skip, who holds him by the collar again, this time just as close as just a couple minutes ago but all that ugly spite deep in his features, replacing any desire that was there not long ago.
Hunter looks at him, disappointed but mostly pissed, "Really?"
Skips takes an exaggerated deep breath, eyebrows knit in fake contemplation. "Really." He says before throwing Hunter to the floor.
How does Skip switch so easily between whoever that was in the bathroom to this psycho on display. Another painful reminder of his stupidity and naivety. Of course Skip is just some idiot bully that doesn't actually want anything to do with him. Was that small smile he saw not an indicator that he enjoyed it, but of knowing? Knowing that he's managed to fool Hunter into revealing something so personal? Was he planning to use this as accelerant on the inferno that is Hunters life? To blindside Hunter and cut him deep just to see him bleed?
Hunter had unconsciously curled into fetal position anticipating the abuse he was now shouldering from Skips fiends. Unable to fight back against the 5v1. Maybe if he had gone to the gym like his father recommended he would be able to punch them all into the next decade. It would be like those fight scenes he saw in Karate Kid where that Larusso kid takes down the whole of Cobra Kai. But he didn't and now he's stuck being the literal punching bag for Skips anger and frustration. But they quickly got bored of just kicking him around so Hunter is quickly hoisted back onto his feet and, without a moment to spare, is thrown into a nearby speaker. Sending him through the keyboard of the band playing at the same time. In the hassle and destroyed property, some cables must've snapped as an ear-splitting, god awful static plays through the surviving speakers.
Clay, the singer of the band - he seriously needs singing lessons like, actual lessons! He really cannot keep one note for shit - pulls the plug of the system to kill the groaning feedback so everyone can remove their clutching hands from their ears. Hunter turns over, flicking his hair over in dramatic fashion to be faced with Skip standing over him and laughing. Motherfucker.
Hunter brings Kevin back to his place, he'd already thrown up on himself at the party so surely that'll be the last of it. He helps him get in the shower and gives him some spare clothes from the 'Kevin's Stuff' draw before putting him to rest. Wait that sounds wrong. To sleep? No, still bad.
He tucks Kevin in before he curls into the doona and falls asleep quickly leaving Hunter alone, sober, and sore. He walks over to his mirror, lifting his shirt to see some bruises forming over his ribs, tender to the touch. Fucking Skip Hoffman. What did he see in him anymore? Why was he still thinking of him so much and hoping he might just wake up tomorrow and be like they were years ago. His gaze drifts to the frame with him and his dad, his mother ripped from the picture. Literally and figuratively. Maybe he just misses the person Skip was then.
Maybe he just misses how life was before the divorce.
Knowing Hunter was struggling with the divorce, Skip made sure to spend as much time with him to take his mind off of it. It worked. They spent every minute of the day that they weren't in class or sleeping, together. Of course he still has resentment towards his mother for leaving, why shouldn't he? But having Skip there made it manageable.
Well, that's what he told his dad. Having Skip around was actually the best thing in the world. He won't lie to himself anymore but he had the biggest crush on him back then, he just didn't know that the way he felt meant that at the time. It just wasn't something that was around. No one he knew was gay and the teachers never spoke about it. He just assumed that's what best friends were. But ever since being friends with Kevin, it's become very obvious. The friendship he and Skip had was a little more than just kids being friends. But none of that matters now anyway with the way Skips treating him now.
But he's just so... hot.
He pulls his phone out and looks up Skip on Instagram, scrolling through his feed, staring at his face. This became a ritual at some point. Every time he thought about Skip, he just had to see his face. No matter how shitty he acted, Hunter just couldn't get past this stupid childish crush. It doesn't help that in almost every photo he's smiling. Wide. And it makes his stomach jump. He misses seeing Skip smile like that around him. It so beautiful, pure happiness.
He shuts off his phone, running a hand down his face, pelting his phone across the room. It probably broke something but who gives a fuck.