#cici watches hsmtmts

[sunshine-julie-molina]

i’m like, halfway? through the third season of hsmtmts? is that fandom still alive?

#finally getting around to watch it #i anticipated it so much and then got busy and forgot lmao #hsmtmts #talks with cici #high school musical the musical the series

[fbfh]

rocks at your window pt. 10 - ricky bowen x reader

disclaimer: this series contains smut and chapter by chapter warnings, so as with all nsfw works, ricky is aged up to 18+!! ricky and reader are 18 and in their senior year

additionally, we're working towards a ricky x therapy plot so he's going to start expressing some symptoms of mental illness and bpd but he does get therapy eventually and has a good support system but he gets worse before he gets better yk. Obviously I'm not a professional and this is for entertainment so while I have done my research pls take this with a grain of salt!! or several!! /lh

!! contains some spoilers for season 1 of hsmtmts, and previous chapters of this fic !!

wc: 10.1k

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, more high highs and a lot of low lows, tooth rotting fluff

pairing: ricky bowen x (afab she/her) reader

warnings: saucy flashbacks, nini and ej are very unprofessional, more fake texts, more coping through the arts, ricky realizes he's a real theatre kid, ricky is simping for you, seb being seb/a good friend/an absolute sweetheart, ricky distancing himself from lynne (slay), spilling tea (after getting permission to do so), conflicted feelings, nini (and ej but mostly nini) ruins the show, three seperate nini pick me moments, reader is about to snap, ricky and reader are mvps, one playful 'babe' from reader to ricky, nini is one delusional bitch!, brief mention of reader's trauma (jumpy at loud noises, flinches when someone raises their voice), ricky and big red are bros, big red has good opinions bc he stans dr phil, minor big red x ashlyn, kourtney and ricky do not get along lol, reader DOES snap, nini is terrible idk how else to rephrase it she's just the worst, nini gets yelled at by both you and ricky (slay), realizations happen, jones BIGASS love confessions and neck kisses.html, flowery descriptions, ricky picks you up briefly, making out, ricky is good with kids and it's adorable, nini is the only one who calls it YAC, theatre kids at denny's jumpscare, mike is a good dad, you wear one of ricky's shirts, saccrine amounts of love declarations, tooth rotting fluff

summary: after the disaster that was act one, act two also finds some way to go unplanned, causing you to be completely fed up with Nini's unprofessional behavior. you turn a night of confrontations around as you realize something and ricky finally gets something important off his chest.

song recs: entr'acte (hands clean) - jagged little pill obc, smiling - jagged little pill obc, what am I to you - rm, you stupid bitch - crazy ex girlfriend cast, first - niki and gabi, for a pessimist, I'm pretty optimistic - paramore, I hear a symphony - cody fry, something to believe in - newsies obc, let's go to the movies - annie (1982), sunrise - in the heights obc

a/n: fangz again 2 cici for beta reading, prepz fuk off. I'm watching american horror story murder house so uh. i'll let you know how that goes. it's hilarious so far tbh i love basement babyman. also this is ricky at you

tags @yesv01 @afidiofobia @aliyahsutherland @hopefullhearts @pikzel @demirunner @brinaslittlefreak @girlfriendwhoseawitch @matiere-detoiles @ifilwtmfc @uselesssapphickitten @nxstalgicnxbxdy @ggclarissa @n-slayaaaaa @stormi-ames @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @rainforest-daisies @sunshineangel-reads

You had heard the first part of their argument from your dressing room. After that it was muffled yelling - most of which you hoped was Ricky’s. When Natalie called for places, they were still going at it. You found Miss Jenn as quickly as you could, worried about Ricky, unsure if he was still okay to perform. 

“EJ is already getting ready to go on.” She tells you. It’s the only answer you need for how ugly things got. She ushers everyone to their places, trying her best to squash their questions and speculations of what’s going on. 

“Nothing you need to worry about, just find you places, get in character, get ready for act two…” she instructs. She pulls you aside before you enter the wings. 

“Mr. Mazzara is escorting her out as we speak.” she informs you quietly. 

“Wait, Mr. Mazzara is here?” you ask. She pauses.

“Uh, yes. He’s been… helping run the lights up in the control booth. It was a last minute-” she shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. The point is, the… shrew is leaving and Mike is on his way back to check on Ricky.” You’re relieved that his dad is here for him - and Miss Jenn. You look around momentarily. 

“Where is he?” you ask. 

“That dusty storage room we shoved the creepy mannequins in.” 

The one with the piano. The one where he helped you come down from a panic attack your first day at the El Rey, and… 

“...So they’re probably going to wait until the show is over, then head home.” You snap out of the onslaught of memories that stirred up at the mention of that storage room, catching the last half of what she said. “You can keep your phone in the wings to stay in touch, just make sure it’s not a distraction.” 

“Okay,” you agree, already feeling it buzzing in your pocket. She nudges you toward the wings as the intro to I Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You starts playing, Nini and EJ’s voices should be floating through the house. 

“Now, go be Sharpay!” she says with a smile, and you start to turn the corner, then pause. 

“Miss Jenn!” you whisper-yell, and she looks back up at you. “Thank you! For everything.” you say sincerely. She places her hands on her chest, smiling, and you finally find your place backstage. 

“Like, full on screaming,” you hear Zeke say to Martha. You try to ignore them, and everyone else talking and whispering. You knew it would spread like wildfire, backstage drama always does. You pull out your phone, blowing up with texts from Ricky and his dad. You keep switching between the two text threads, trying to figure out what happened, to make sure Ricky’s okay. As you type out replies to both him and his dad, you look out onto the stage. Something doesn’t sound right, the gaps between the dialog are too long. 

Your brow furrows, trying to figure out what’s going on. EJ’s hand comes up to his collar and he leans forward. Nina delivers her next line more stilted and awkward and out of character than anything you’ve ever seen. You watch, confusion turning into disbelief as Nina covers her mic with her hand, and whispers something to EJ. Being so close to where they’re standing, you’re able to catch most of what she says - ‘seriously, EJ, where’s Ricky?’, or something to that effect. 

High pitched feedback whines at the disturbance to her mic, and for a moment you think you must have imagined it. There’s no way, no chance in hell she covered her mic with her hand, broke character onstage, and got EJ to break character too. You take a few breaths, reminding yourself that you’re not the director. Miss Jenn will have to deal with that one. Your phone buzzes as you get more texts from Ricky, and you check it again. 

Ricky stares at the little gray box on his screen, letting your words sink in. He still has four shows to perform in. He has more than just tonight to look forward to. All of those shows, every single one of them, is going to go just fine. Even now, through the worst possible nightmare of a thing that could have happened, the show is still continuing; the show must go on. And it will. It is, right in front of his eyes, as he and his dad enter the auditorium, taking two empty seats, Ricky’s right on the aisle. EJ and Nini harmonize, dancing around the stage - like he was supposed to. They finish the last verse of Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You, as the audience applauds. He claps politely as the lights go down. 

He mentally runs through what he would be doing if he were back there with you guys. You’re probably getting ready for the scene at Sharpay’s locker with Zeke, standing center stage in the dark, looking at the prop accessories in the pink locker, while Zeke mentally goes over his lines and blocking in the stage left wing. The lights go up, and he’s right. He knows this whole show inside and out, he realizes, and it makes his chest squeeze. Instead of dwelling on that, he leans forward, watching the scene begin to play out. He realizes suddenly that he gets to actually watch you perform. Not just from the wings or during rehearsals or in a grainy camcorder video, but he gets to watch you live. 

He smiles a little, realizing how special that is. You deliver your lines flawlessly, bringing a chuckle from the audience with your attitude right when you want one. It’s crazy how you play the mean girl so well, when it couldn’t be further from your real personality. He figures you’re just that amazing. You let out a shrill, frustrated scream, then storm off stage with Zeke trailing after you. When the lights go down, he claps loudly, letting out a cheer. He lets out a shaky breath, knowing you’ll be in the next scene, too - you’re probably quick changing for it right now. 

He’s right again, and backstage, you pull on your jacket, relieved to be done a little earlier than usual. It’s probably nerves from everything that happened tonight making you go a little quicker, but you’re not complaining. 

“So,” Seb says quietly next to you, bending over to tug on his heels, “what happened earlier? It sounded bad…” You let out a slow, frustrated sigh. He gets the sense it wasn’t just bad, it was really bad. 

“Just…” you search for the words, “some personal stuff. Family stuff, I guess.” 

“Bad enough for him to leave halfway through the show?” he asks, and you can tell he’s concerned. You pause fixing your belt, looking up to the catwalk and praying for the strength to get through tonight. Seb is one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met, and you know he wouldn’t hurt a fly, but the last thing you need to do is add to the whispers, the desire for someone to spill the tea on what happened during intermission. 

“It’s really not for me to say…” you trail off, glancing at the other groups of castmates waiting to go on and techies listening for their cues. ‘Later’, you mouth to him. You have to go on any minute, and you want to text Ricky about it before you tell anyone anything. It’s really not your place to tell anyone what’s going on in his homelife. You pull out your phone, sending him a quick text that says some of your friends are worried about him, and does he want you to say anything or keep it under wraps for now. You turn your phone on silent and hide it in your bra before making your entrance on time. 

Seb lets out a huff, then follows you off stage as the ensemble runs in from the wings and the music for Wildcat Cheer reprise starts playing. As the ensemble begins dancing, Ricky checks his phone again, seeing a new text from you. ‘What do you want me to say?’ He pauses, staring at the screen. What does he want you to say? Nothing, at first. For a painful, fleeting moment, he wishes none of this had ever happened in the first place, he wishes he didn’t have to keep making up excuses and brushing things off. He doesn’t have to, he realizes. He doesn’t have to keep covering for her, and overcompensating for her shitty decisions. He bites the inside of his cheek, then texts you back. 

Backstage, you return to the stage right wing, ready for your next scene. You check to see if Ricky has texted you back, and he did. ‘Tell them she showed up unannounced and we got in a fight. I’m not trying to make her look good anymore.’ You agree, and a part of you is glad he’s not making himself responsible for his mother’s emotions anymore. When your scene is over, you rush to your dressing room to get ready for Bop to the Top. You have a full costume and hair change, and you need to tweak your makeup a little, so it usually takes you the longest to get ready for. Once you’ve applied enough body glitter to choke a bratz doll, you leave your dressing room, meeting Seb on the way to the wings. 

Most of the cast is onstage right now, so it’s not very crowded backstage where you stand, waiting for the current song to end. Seb moves a little closer to you and lowers his voice.

“I know it’s probably not a good time to ask, but what in the Mount Saint Helens happened with Ricky?” He asks in a hushed, worried tone. You bite back a smile at his turns of phrase, and sigh. You think back to Ricky’s text, how he said he’s done covering for her. 

“His mother showed up…” you say slowly, pausing at the shocked expression on his face. 

“She what?” he exclaims quietly. 

“And she tried to corner Ricky during intermission,” he gasps, and you continue, “and they got into a huge fight.” 

“Oh my god.” he says, thinking back to the yelling he’d heard. 

“Mhm.” you confirm, “Miss Jenn had to kick her out so she wouldn’t cause more of a scene.” 

“Oh my god!” he gasps in disbelief that it got that bad. He feels like he’s on an episode of Real Housewives. Or maybe Dance Moms. 

“Poor Ricky… Is he okay?” His mind constructs different images of Ricky’s mother ambushing him while he tries to get ready for act two. He can’t imagine how terrible that must have been. 

“As much as he can be right now,” you say. Seb can see how worried you are about him. This night took a toll on you, and he’s sure Ricky’s dad and Miss Jenn can’t be doing much better. It makes sense, and he’s glad to at least know what happened. 

“That’s pretty much it, but I’ll give you the details later.” you say, noting that you have to go on soon, and walking over to Ashlyn so you can enter together. 

The music starts, and Ricky has never been more excited for Bop to the Top. He’s never had the opportunity to see you and Seb perform full out like this from the audience, he’s always been just out of view before because of the blocking and where he was supposed to stand on stage. But now, he’s front and center, watching the light bounce off the glitter scattered across your chest and arms. You’re in a gorgeous, glittering teal dress that bounces and moves with every step you take. Your silver sparkling heels match your bracelets, and your hair is pinned up with big pink and white flowers on the side. Seb begins to dance with you, wearing a coordinating outfit that’s just as flashy. 

As the music cuts between the basketball game and science decathlon, you and Seb continue to steal the show. Your singing is gorgeous and your choreography is flawless. You harmonize as you spin around, totally in sync. Your attitude, your charisma is overflowing. The two most important events of the show are happening on either side of you, and you’re keeping all eyes center stage. He’s never seen a number with this much energy, this much flare, and based on the way the crowd is reacting, they feel the same way. 

As the tension builds, as the time to score the winning shot runs out and the science questions get harder and harder, as the music builds, Ricky’s breath is taken away. At the climax of the number, the East High Wildcats win the championship basketball game, and the science decathlon at the same moment. You and Seb hit the final note, holding it out as you strike your ending pose. Right as you’re done, Taylor kills the lights. 

Ricky is stunned at how good the show looks from the audience. But in spite of how amazing it’s been, he can’t ignore the gnawing in his chest anymore. He’s been trying so hard to focus on you, to not be jealous of EJ standing up there reciting his lines, singing his parts and doing his choreography. Seeing EJ up there, seeing Carlos struggle to fill in as Chad makes his stomach sink. It’s supposed to be him up there. He’s supposed to be the one scrambling to make it to callbacks on time, just like he did in real life all those months ago. He turns his attention back to you, as you begin your biggest Sharpay diva moment of the show. 

You storm off with Seb at your heels, and you both begin to get changed for the finale. As you get dressed into your white and red outfits, you can’t resist telling him a little more about what happened during act one and intermission. 

“...And she just stormed up to me, demanding to see him. Like, I told her, ‘you’re not cast or crew, you are so not allowed to be back here’, but she didn’t care!” Your voice is intense, but hushed. 

“Are you kidding?” he demands, shock evident on his face. 

“I wish I was…” you laugh softly, just as flabbergasted by the recent turn of events as he is. You inch closer to the curtain, and see Ricky wave to you in the audience - or more specifically in the general direction of where he knows you’d be right about now. His eyes are still a little pink and puffy, and it’s obvious how much everything that happened tonight has fucked him up. Your chest squeezes at the sight, and you wish you could hug him or do something to help. You sigh, trying to think of something encouraging to text him when you get a spare minute to. You snap out of your train of thought when you realize it’s quiet onstage. Your stomach sinks as EJ repeats his line, trying to cue Nina.

“Oh god,” you mutter next to Seb. 

“Did she forget her lines?” he asks. Her head turns, and you see what she’s looking at - who she’s looking at. You’re minutes away from the finale of the show, and she’s staring at Ricky. EJ begins speaking again, reciting his lines, but he just keeps going.

“Is he improving?” you ask rhetorically. “Why is he improving?” 

You have no idea what’s going on, but this show is going off the rails so fast. It’s like a slow motion trainwreck, and you find yourself unable to look away as Nina whispers to him out of character, for the second time in the last hour. You can feel your blood pressure rise as she breaks character too, the both of them floundering onstage and deviating from every rule of theatre Miss Jenn has been drilling into your heads for the last three months. Again, EJ speaks up, not even trying at this point. 

“I’m not the Troy you want,” he says melancholically. 

“What the fuck are they doing?” you hiss, and Seb can tell that after everything that happened tonight, this is really the last straw for you - you’re out for blood. You watch in disbelief as EJ just… walks offstage. And that’s it. You think it’s a really good thing he exited to the other side of the stage, because you sure have some choice words for him right now. 

“What is he doing?!” you question again, more pissed off than Seb has ever seen you. As if things couldn’t possibly get worse, you can’t believe what you’re seeing. Nina picks up her mic and begins to walk toward the edge of the stage, singing acapella. 

“She better not fucking do what I think she’s doing.” your voice is quiet, dangerous, and Seb is momentarily worried on her behalf. Even though you’re like, the nicest person ever, he doesn’t think anyone would want to be on your bad side.

Your hand flies over your mouth in utter disbelief as she walks into the audience and right over to Ricky, signaling for Big Red to follow her with a spotlight. Just when you think this couldn’t be more of an amature hour shit show, she pulls out her phone, turning her flashlight on him. You have no idea what she thinks that’s going to do, and thank god when she puts it away after a minute. She grabs Ricky’s hand, trying multiple times to pull him out of his seat. His heart is pounding, and he can feel himself freezing up. He has no idea what’s happening or why she’s doing this, and he has even less of an idea what he’s supposed to do. 

“I’m… really not at my best right now…” he manages to choke out. She doesn’t listen, and grips his hand, limp in hers. 

“Just look at me, Ricky. Right at me.” She smiles, like that will fix anything. He shouldn’t go up there, he shouldn’t go onstage when he’s like this. He and his dad had a whole conversation about it after intermission. But with everyone staring at him, Nini begins to sing. When she holds out the mic for him to finish the verse, he does, almost on instinct. He can’t leave her hanging, not like this. He panics, and next thing he knows, he’s letting her drag him onstage. He doesn’t know what’s happening, why she’s doing this, but he moves automatically and lets her drag him onstage. 

He’s struggling to keep his voice level, using all his effort to push past the pain, and smile at her. As she finally brings him center stage, taking his shaking hands in hers, he fights with everything inside him to make this work, to make it convincing, and be the finale it was supposed to be. He just has to keep it together for this last number, work through the pain, the ache in his chest and stomach that’s killing him as he stands up there, just for three minutes. As the rest of the cast begins to hit their cues, the energy has never been higher. They’re giving it everything they’ve got to hype him up, give him something to hold onto. He can feel them reaching out to him, singing and dancing their hearts out to lift him up. 

He’s trying so hard to be Troy, to seem convincing, to smile sincerely - not at Nini, but at Gabriella. He holds her hands, beaming, thinking about how badly Troy wants to kiss her. He clings onto this moment, the music, this role like a lifeboat. Troy has a great relationship with both his parents, Troy doesn’t come from a broken home. Troy is okay, he’s never been better, which means that Ricky gets to be okay vicariously through him, just for a little while. Just for a few minutes. He holds onto this catharsis as tightly as he can. He’s not going to let this moment be taken away from him too. The audience is cheering louder than ever as they make their way to the end of the song, incredibly confused at the cast changes and Nini’s actions, but they cheer everyone on - especially Ricky - nonetheless. 

He smiles at her through misty eyes, holding her hands and gazing at her in adoration. ‘This is it,’ Nini thinks, ‘my Ricky has come back to me. It’s always going to be us.’ He caresses her cheek, and looks at her like he really wants to kiss her as they harmonize. She knows he wants to kiss her, he’s always loved her and he’s always going to. They’ve had their ups and downs, but she knows that Ricky will always be hers. She was his first love, his first everything, and that’s what really matters. They have history, and you can’t fake that, you can’t manufacture that. 

The song ends and she drags him into the wings away from you and Seb, shoving his finale costume at him. He fumbles to take off his jacket, desperately trying to stay in motion, to keep moving, keep smiling, keep being Troy. He throws the sparkly white and red tracksuit on over his remaining clothes, and has seconds before he’s going to get dragged back out for the finale of a show he was only able to half participate in. He hates her so much for ruining this for him. He hates Nini for dragging him back up here, for literally putting him in a spotlight in the aftermath of the worst event of his life. He sucks it up, putting on a smile and getting hyped up to sing along to the megamix. 

It takes one look at your face for Seb to know just how bad this is. He can feel the rage, the disbelief radiating off of you, and he has no idea what’s going to happen after this. He thinks it’s nice that Nini tried to include Ricky, but she definitely didn’t go about it the right way. He’s sure you’d feel that’s probably the biggest understatement that could be made about the situation. 

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly, really worried. There’s already been so much drama tonight, he knows your bullshit tolerance is in the negatives right now. You stare at Nina across the stage, watching her whisper something to Kourtney with an expression on her face that infuriates you.

“Not sure yet.” You answer quietly, voice dangerous. Finally, you hear your cue, and you and Seb enter the stage.

He watches you change on a dime, transforming into a sassy, fun, reformed mean girl. You dance with him, and flirt with Zeke effortlessly. He can’t find a trace of your previous rage once you’re past the curtain, singing and dancing as Sharpay. There’s a light, fun, playful energy around you, and it’s infectious, making Seb and Zeke and everyone else around you have even more fun out there. For a moment, he forgets how ugly this is going to get once the lights go down. 

You make your way over to Gabriella, doing a little dance with her, just like you’re supposed to. You flash her a thumbs up, and wink at her supportively when Troy pulls her closer to dance, just like you’ve been practicing at every rehearsal leading up to this moment. Nina smiles at you when you do, interpreting yours and Ricky’s behavior as more than just stage directions. She feels a sense of benevolent camaraderie with you in these fleeting moments. Maybe she will be the bigger person, maybe she will extend her friendship to you, because even though you did try to steal Ricky from her - unsuccessfully at that - fighting over dumb boys is stupid. 

She and Gina run off to pull Miss Jenn onstage so she can deliver her infamous deleted line. It was your idea initially, but you made sure to tell the rest of the cast before tonight so the surprise could be from all of you. The cast and house cheer as she delivers her line, and you can see how much it means to her. You get a minute to dance with Ricky, and make your way over to him as quickly and naturally as possible. You couldn’t seem happier or more care free, but when you speak, your voice is strained. 

“I am so sorry that happened…” you say, barely loud enough for him to hear over the swell of the music and the rhythmic clapping as the audience keeps time. He can see it, the frustration being masked by your energetic, jovial nature. You’re doing the same thing he is, he realizes. You’re using this moment onstage and in character to keep the real world at bay. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt closer to you than he does right now. He wants to say something, he wants to feel horrible - he’s sure it’s justified - but when he looks at you, he can’t 

You’re onstage together at the end of your opening night performance, with a full house clapping and cheering and singing along with you both, with the whole cast. And in this moment, you’re worried about him. You’re worried about him. He’s so overwhelmed by this feeling of being onstage with all his friends, an audience full of people who came here and bought tickets and watched the show and are now cheering them on for this, the penultimate moment of all their hard work and dedication and doubts over the last three months culminating to this. He knows you know this feeling well, that this is the first show you’ve done in so long and how badly you’ve missed it - and you’re still up here, worried about him. 

“There were some… hiccups, but…” he starts, locking eyes with yours, looking at you that way that he does. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt more strongly for you than he does right now. “This is kind of the best, right?” You smile suddenly at his words, relief evident on your face. You feel like you can breathe a little easier knowing he’s doing okay - or at least, better than he was. 

“This is just the tip of the iceberg babe,” you chuckle, nudging him playfully. You’re still livid at that… stunt Nina pulled, that hasn’t slipped your mind. But for now, Ricky is okay. That’s what’s important. You’ll deal with her later, if you get the chance. 

“Just wait till you see what I have picked out for the spring musical!” you both look over at Miss Jenn as she smiles, drawing an excited laugh from you and Ricky. 

Nina looks over, hearing you laughing with Ricky. It makes her stomach sink. She scoffs, figuring it must be platonic. He’s probably just giving you closure, or something. She looks back out into the crowd, and stops dancing as she watches the scout from YAC leave. Her mouth hangs open in disbelief. If she doesn’t get into YAC, the performing arts school of her dreams, what was the point of all this?

After everyone runs forward in groups, then individually to bow in front of the audience, You, Nina, and Ricky are the last to go. He stands between you, lined up with everyone else, holding both your hands as you and all your friends bow as a cast.  He snaps to attention as he hears a certain part of the music, squeezing your hand in warning. Confetti cannons go off from the wings moments later, drawing out a new wave of cheers and applause from the audience. You’re grateful for the warning, and you squeeze his hand back as a thank you. Your heart is warmed that even now, after so many difficult things happening back to back in one night, he still remembered that loud noises can make you jumpy. 

When Nina goes to share a look with Ricky, her smile drops. He’s already looking at you. There’s a certain type of joy in his eye, the kind you can only find amidst the ashes of misery, as he realizes that through everything that happened, he’s still okay. You’re still here. That’s the important part. You’re still right here with him, holding his hand. He made it to bows. Everything is going to be okay. In sharing this eye contact with him, you can’t help but reflect on how pretty he looks in the blue cast of the stage lights as he looks at you that way that makes your stomach twist. 

The curtains begin to draw closed, and you all wave at the audience until they’re out of sight. Sporadic cheers are let out around you as hugs are initiated here and there, and everyone begins flooding to the dressing rooms to get changed. As you make your way to the back, Ashlyn already leading everyone in a very loud, high energy reprise of We’re All in This Together, you squeeze Ricky’s arm. When he looks at you, he seems to be doing exactly as well as you’d expect - okay for now, the massive high from the end of the show keeping him afloat for now, but you know it won’t last forever. 

“I’m gonna go get changed real quick, I’ll say hi to my mom then we can go home, okay?” you say quietly, and he can tell from your tone of voice that you’re here for him, he just needs to hang in there a little longer. 

“Okay,” he says with a shaky breath. He doesn’t really need to get changed since he has his street clothes on under his tracksuit, so after hanging it up in its place, he waits in the hall outside the dressing rooms. A few minutes later, everyone who got changed the fastest are in the halls and on the stairs outside the dressing rooms, talking and congratulating each other before they go to the lobby. There's a silent understanding that you're all waiting just a few more minutes before you have to leave, before you have to acknowledge that the show is over. Big Red runs over to Ricky as soon as he spots him. 

“Are you okay, dude?” he asks quietly, clearly worried about him. Ricky lets out a breathy laugh. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” Ricky realizes how stressed he must be, having no idea of anything that was going on until half way through the show. "There’s a lot to fill you in on." Ricky nods his head, and they move to a more secluded area so Ricky can begin catching him up. He goes over the series of events from earlier tonight quickly, trying not to get worked up over all of it again. Soon he's wrapping up his summary of the horrible things that happened in such a short span of time, and his eyes are much less misty than he was worried they'd be. 

"Oh. My. God." Red states, laughing in disbelief that his mother would do something like that. 

"Yeah." Ricky nods, still in shock. 

"Don't take this the wrong way, dude," Red says tentatively, "but that does sound like something she would do; the guilt tripping, mind games, all of it." Ricky can't help but agree. In retrospect, Red does remember her using a lot of language that read as passive aggressive or guilt  tripping. There’s no way they could have picked up on that as kids, but hindsight is 20/20. Ricky loses Red's attention real quick as Ashlyn walks toward her friends, no longer loitering outside the dressing room she shares with you and Nini - and soon, Gina. She holds up a piece of paper from the mystery bouquet she'd been inspecting more closely. 

“We found a card!” she says excitedly. Ricky nudges Red, encouraging him to tell Ashlyn that he was the one to send the flowers. He looks at Ricky, nervous, and gets an encouraging nod. Big Red takes a breath, steadying himself, then stands up and walks towards Ashlyn. 

"Actually…" he starts. He doesn't need to say anything else, watching the realization hit. They walk a few feet away, talking animatedly and seeming to have a good time. More people start to filter out to see their friends and family, and as they dissipate, he realizes he still hasn't seen you since you went to change. He spots Kourtney passing by a few feet away and runs over to her. 

"Hey, uh," he starts carefully. He knows Kourtney hasn't been too fond of him for a while. "Do you know where Nini is?" He knows where Gina and Ashlyn are, and he really just wants to grab you and get out of here without even more drama. Kourtney sucks her teeth, considering how to respond for a moment. She could say something, she always has something to say when it comes to Ricky, but she knows tonight was hard on him. She doesn't know the details, but she's sure the last thing she'd want in his position is more animosity. 

"The scout left, and she's taking it hard. I think she's with her moms, but I don't know for sure." He waits a beat, realizing there's no other shoe that's going to drop, no glares or snarky comments.

"Thanks," he says quietly, before making his way to your dressing room. You're probably just having trouble getting everything back in your bag. He thought you had way over packed when you showed him the huge tote bag you got ready for tech week, but by the end, every 'just in case you had brought had been needed more than once. You really know your way around a theater, he thinks. 

When you first enter your dressing room, all you want to do is get changed and get out. Ashlyn talks a little - mostly to herself - about how excited she is for the next show. You reply as politely as possible, doing everything you can to avoid Nina, ignore her as much as you can. You just have to get changed and get out. You have bigger issues to deal with, bigger fish to fry than to chew her out for what she did back there. 

"Yeah," she replies, a faux chipper tone to her voice "hopefully we won't have as many last minute cast changes tomorrow night," you pause, gripping the empty plastic hanger so hard your knuckles turn white. "But who knows, right?" 

You've tried your best, you really have, but you can't take her bullshit anymore. The hanger snaps in your hands with a loud crack. Ashlyn's eyes widen in surprise, and now out of costume, she makes her way to the door. 

"I'll give you two a minute…"

The cacophony of voices get louder for a moment as she opens the door to leave, then it's quiet again. You turn away from her to tug on your shoes, praying to god she'll just leave it alone, let you get out of here quietly. 

"Sorry," her voice is dripping with a passive aggressive ignorance that grates on your ears. "Did you have something to say to me?" Before she can scoff and drop a yeah, that's what I thought, you turn, looking over your shoulder at her with a stone cold glare. When you speak, your voice is so deadly, so sharp she feels like she's been stung. 

"Count yourself fucking lucky that I don't have time to hang around right now, but I swear to god, Nina, if you pull shit like that again-"

"Wh-" she sputters, "excuse me? Pull what? Including Ricky, and helping him?"

"You think you were helping him?" You repeat, turning to face her. You roll your eyes scoffing. "Wow." She starts to say something, but you cut her off. 

"Look, I don't know why you're here, but some of us actually take this seriously. This actually means something- this matters to some people, and nobody needs you turning it into a little three ring Nina circus, and ruining it for the people who actually want to be here!" Your voice rises as you continue, driving your point home, and refusing to let her interrupt you. By the time you’re done, her mouth is hanging open.

“I don’t care what you do in your free time,” you continue decisively, “I really don’t, but don’t ruin everything for the people who actually give a fuck!” you say, a humorless laugh at the end. You don’t know who’s been coddling her up until now, but you are sure as hell are not going to let someone get away with a stunt like that. It’s clear from her reaction that no one has ever spoken to her like this, and you think it’s long overdue. “That was the most unprofessional load of bullshit I have ever fucking seen! And I’ve been around the rodeo a few times.” 

Nina blinks hard, fighting tears prickling the corners of her eyes. She feels like she’s just been slapped. Her? Unprofessional? Wow. You’re really reaching now. She’s the most professional person at this whole school, she just… She freezes as it hits her in a split second of clarity, that she doesn’t have a leg to stand on. She broke the cardinal rules of theatre; she broke character, went into the audience, broke the immersion. She ruined opening night. You can see the moment of lucidity where she realizes she’s in the wrong, and it’s gone just as fast. 

“You’re one to talk about being a professional.” She spits. You look at her incredulously. Once again you have no idea where she’s going with this. When you don’t react, don’t instantly get it, she continues. 

“You had a Broadway career handed to you on a silver platter, and you threw it away!” she searches your face for shock that she figured out your secret, continuing, “And for what, so you could slum it at some midwestern high school full of amateurs?” 

You figured it was a matter of time before someone found out you’ve done professional theatre before, so if she’s waiting for a reaction from you, she’s not going to get one. The only reason you didn’t tell anyone, the only reason you kept quiet about it is because you didn’t want to come across as cocky or seem like you were bragging. Plus, with how hard things got towards the end, you don’t really want to go around and dig up memories from that time in your life. Besides, you’re not in New York right now, you’re at East High. You’re here with all your friends, finally getting a little piece of normalcy. You’re exactly where you want to be, so why would you waste it living in the past?

Before you can answer, she continues.

“The point is, you need to stay away from Ricky and stop lying to him. Okay?” she demands. Her voice is muffled through the door, but right outside, Ricky hears her loud and clear. He didn’t hear you two before, but now the halls and dressing rooms are mostly empty.

Is she still seriously going on about that? You let out a breath, trying to regain your composure. 

“I really do not have the time to keep having the same conversation with you over and over - or explain to you that you can’t tell people who they can and can’t date!” you exclaim. You’re about to drop it, but there’s one more thing you need to get off your chest. “And for the fucking record, you don’t know jack shit about what else was going on in my life when I left New York. And I don’t owe you an explanation either.” you say coldly. You’ve said your peace, the only thing you need to do is fucking get out of here and find Ricky. 

“I can’t believe I actually used to look up to you!” she exclaims. “Look. It was cute, or whatever, at first, but this little game of yours has gone on for long enough. He’s mine. Now can you leave him alone, please?” she demands. She’s dripping that passive aggression you’re really starting to get sick of. You look at her in the mirror, illuminated with lights. 

“Seriously? You seriously want to do this right now.” You say, exhausted. She either doesn’t hear you or pretends not to as she continues.

“I knew him first! I dated him first, I kissed him first. Everything he’s done with you, he did with me first.” she states. She doesn’t know how else to get it into your head that she was his first everything, and you’re just a rebound or something. What they have isn’t something you can just get over like that.

“You weren’t… every first, Nini.” You both look over at Ricky, and you wonder how long he’s been standing in the doorway, how much he heard. 

“Ricky… what?” she whips around at the sound of his voice. He stares back at her, teary eyed and serious. 

“You weren’t every first.” he repeats. You both look at him in disbelief. Nina furrows her brow. She can’t believe he’s disrespecting their relationship like this. You stare at him, thinking back, reanalyzing your memories. He can’t be saying what you think he’s saying. There’s no way you were his first time. That couldn’t have been his first time. There’s no way that Ricky Bowen was a virgin before he showed up at your house that night, there’s no way that you took his virginity. ‘Oh god, I did, didn’t I?’ you think, remembering the way he looked at you, how nervous and desperate he was. Heat floods to your cheeks. You have no idea what to do with this information.

“How could you say that?” she demands. She was his first crush, his first kiss, his first date, girlfriend, heartbreak. She was all of it. 

“Because it’s true!” he exclaims. “The only first I care about, the only first that matters, is right there.” he gestures to you. 

Oh yeah, no, you definitely did take his virginity. You did not expect this, much less that it would make you feel so… tender? Flattered? Warm and fuzzy maybe? You hold back a flustered laugh. Whatever warm thing it is, you’re sure feeling a lot of it. You stare at the ground, cheeks hot, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you process this in the back of your mind. The majority of your attention is still on Ricky. You’ve been so worried, but he seems okay, which is a huge relief. He catches your eye, and your stomach twists. He’s looking at you like that again, and you’re sure you must be looking at him the same way. Anyone could see it. You snap back to attention, remembering Nina is still in the room with you. 

“We should get going-” you start quietly, reaching for your bag.

“Stay out of this!” she snaps, and you recoil at the sudden sharpness to her voice. “This is between Ricky and me.”  She turns to him, continuing, “And we are not done talking about this.” 

“Don’t talk to her like that.” He says quickly, more defensive of you after what happened earlier. He walks over to you, standing in between you and her. “Anything you have to say to me, you can say it in front of her.” Even though his voice wavers with emotion for a moment, Nina can tell he’s not backing down on this. She weighs her options. 

“Okay.” she starts, sucking her teeth. “I think she’s manipulating you.”

He lets out a breathy laugh with a bitter edge. He rolls his eyes, looking away for a second.

“That’s… hilarious, coming from you…” he mutters. 

“What? She’s been lying to you this whole time! She’s been doing professional theatre for years, Ricky, she-”

“That’s what this is about?” He realizes. “Oh my god, I already knew that!” he yells. Relief floods him as it clicks that all the bullshit she’s been spewing is nothing he didn’t know about already. She really was just trying to get into his head. “She’s not manipulating me, Nini, she’s there for me! There’s a difference! She actually cares about me - unlike you, and Lynne, and everybody else.” 

“That’s not fair-”

“She’s actually there for me, and she doesn’t just bail when shit gets hard. Not like you’d know anything about that.” he says the last part quieter, but she still hears it. She doesn’t have a comeback, she doesn’t have anything she can say to that. 

“I don’t have to listen to this.” She grabs her bag, brushing past him. Before she leaves, he turns to her, finally saying something he never thought he’d be able to. 

“I’m starting to think I wasn’t the problem in our relationship.” 

She freezes, turning to him slowly, eyes glistening.

“What?”

“You heard me.” he states. 

“You know what?” There’s nothing she can say, no comeback, no way to defend herself. She lets a single tear fall. “Screw you, Ricky.” She leaves quickly, huffing at what he said. He turns to you, still staring at where she left in disbelief. You exhale for what feels like the first time since this confrontation began, then immediately turn your attention back to Ricky. You’re grabbing your stuff as quickly as you can, desperate to finally get out of here, laughing nervously. 

“I can’t believe this night keeps getting worse. Look, we can just go home, we don’t have to go to Denny’s or anything if you don’t want to, I just want to make sure you’re okay, because obviously a lot of-” 

“I love you.” 

It tears from his throat with more raw emotion than you’ve ever heard, stopping you in your tracks. Your eyes widen as his hands come up to hold your face. He wants to kiss you so badly, more than he’s wanted anything, and you can feel it. He keeps going.

“I love you so much, I wanted to say it before. I’ve wanted to say it since that first amazing night we spent together. Ever since you snuck me into your room, and we talked and watched old episodes of cartoons, and you took me in when I needed you, I have loved you. And then you got those little plastic rings when we were running late for rehearsal, because we stopped for coffee and peach scones, and- and we traded colors, I felt like my heart was going to explode.” 

His thumbs caress your cheeks, and it makes you light headed. 

“I wanted to say it when we were dancing at homecoming and you were so beautiful I thought I’d die, I wanted to say it every time we kissed, and every time you laugh so hard your nose scrunches up, I wanted to say it. You made me fall in love with theatre, and this beautiful place, and with you. You love everyone around you so selflessly,” his voice breaks, “please, let me love you. The way you deserve to be loved. Even if you don’t want to say it back-” 

“I love you too.” You can’t help interrupting him, unable to ignore how true they are any longer. He’s stopped dead in his tracks. “I would have said something sooner, but the last thing I wanted was for you to feel pressured, so I… figured I’d follow your lead.” The room is quiet as he tries to get the air back in his lungs. 

“You love me?” he breathes.

“Yeah,” you confirm, nodding, “I do.” 

He takes one look at you, holding you intensely in his gaze, confirming that you really just said that. In one swift motion, he pulls you close to him, dipping you, and finally connects his lips to yours. He kisses you more passionately than anything he’s ever done. He kisses the air out of your lungs, kisses away the little space between you, desperately kissing everything he feels for you onto your lips. You lose yourself for a beautiful moment in that kiss. You’re not sure how long you stay like that, holding each other as close as you can get, with kissing as the only means of expressing the depths of your feelings, but it’s long enough that your lungs burn when you finally pull away. He barely moves his face away from yours as you attempt in sync to catch your breath. 

“Say it again,” he murmurs against your lips. 

“I love you,” you say, soft and sincere, that beautiful smile on your lips where his ache to be again. He reacts instantly to your words, picking you up, and kissing you again and again. You wrap your legs around his waist, giggling in surprise. He sets you on the table in front of the big dressing room mirror where Ashlyn’s character shoes still sit. The mental note to make sure she doesn’t forget them flies out of your mind as Ricky kisses you again and again, mouth open against yours. His lips are all over your face and your neck, turning you into a giggling mess as he holds you tight. He mutters sweet nothings against your skin that turn sensual very quick, but mostly he keeps telling you how much he loves you between kisses, mumbling the three words into your skin over and over. 

“Ricky…” you trail off as he bites your neck playfully, causing you to let out a flustered noise. “We have to go upstairs…” you start to forget what you were saying as he runs his tongue over your skin. “Our parents are waiting!” you laugh, desperately holding onto the train of thought. 

“Let them wait…” he murmurs, “You said we could kiss after the show, and… it’s after.” The flustered look on your face is too much for him, and he presses his lips to yours again, pushing his tongue into your mouth. You feel so good, your skin is so soft and you smell so sweet, and it’s all so much more now that he’s said it, now that you said it back to him. He squeezes your thigh and bites your lip and moans into your mouth, loving every noise you make, every tug of his hair and grab of his shirt. He’s so desperate for you and your touch, he would fuck you right here if he could. He considers it for a moment. 

After eavesdropping too long for her own good, Nina feels a solitary tear roll down her cheek. Ricky’s words ring in her ears. He loves you. He didn’t just say it back, he initiated it. She didn’t stick around too long, just enough for it to hurt. She reaches into her bag, pulling out her songwriting book. She’s sure this will give her plenty to write about, she thinks bitterly. She could probably get a whole album out of it. ‘At least then the pain would be worth something…’ she muses, taking one last look over her shoulder before leaving the dressing rooms - and Ricky - out of her sight.

Eventually, you and Ricky manage to drag yourselves upstairs and greet people in the lobby. Mike finds him quickly, pulling him aside to check on him. He looks back over at you, accepting flowers from your mom and pulling her in for a hug. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m okay.” He doesn’t look away from you, and Mike doesn’t miss this. His son is a lot of wonderful things, but he sure wouldn’t describe him as subtle. Ricky watches you as a girl in a pink dress walks up nervously to you with who he presumes is her sister. He’s too far away to hear your conversation over the chatter from people milling about, but your face lights up after she speaks. You pull a hot pink sharpie out of your bag and sign her playbill before handing it back to her. The sight makes his chest squeeze. He didn’t know you were good with kids, but it makes total sense - you’re good with everybody. 

Mike nudges him toward you.

“Go ahead,” he smiles, so Ricky does. 

“Hey,” he starts, pausing when a woman walks up to him, a little girl hiding behind her leg, looking up at Ricky in admiration. 

“Excuse me,” the woman says, getting his attention. “You were fantastic. She really loves High School Musical, and we wanted to know if you’d sign her playbill…” 

The girl looks up at him nervously, and he smiles, letting out a flustered chuckle. He didn’t expect this, he doesn’t even have a pen - but luckily as always you’re right behind him, extending a sharpie his way. 

“Yeah,” he smiles, “sure, of course!” He scribbles his name across the front before handing it back. “What was your favorite part?” he asks. She considers. 

“We’re All in This Together.” she decides, singing out the song title. 

“No way, that’s my favorite song too!” The way her face lights up is something he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget. She jumps excitedly that someone as cool as Troy Bolton has the same favorite song as her before hiding behind her mom’s legs again. The mom thanks him again before picking up her daughter. Ricky turns to you, not even needing to say anything. 

“I know,” you smile, “it’s the best, right?” 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It is.” Your eyes light up that way they do when you remember something, and you reach into your bag. You pull out Ashlyn’s character shoes - thank god you remembered to bring them out with you - and gesture down the hall to where Ashlyn is talking to some of her friends that came to see the show. 

“I’m gonna give these back to Ashlyn, and I’ll meet you and our parents by the doors in like, two seconds.” He agrees, and you part ways. 

“Thank you!” Ashlyn gasps when you hand her the shoes. “I was looking everywhere for these.” 

She pauses, remembering how tense things got between you and Nini earlier before she left. 

“Was everything okay with…” she trails off, jogging your memory. 

“Oh,” you start, a little unsure of how to answer. “Yeah. Everything’s fine now.” You look off to the side, and she follows your gaze to Ricky. He’s talking to his dad and seems to be doing a lot better now, and you seem to be doing better too. 

As you make your way down the hall and across the lobby you’re stopped by a woman you don’t recognize, but she seems to know you, addressing you by name as she introduces herself. 

“I’m Kalyani Patel, the dean of the Youth Actors Conservatory in Denver. I’ve been following your career for some time, and I have to say, I’m very impressed. You’re incredibly talented and have a lot of notable credits for someone as young as you are. We have one more available place available for the upcoming semester, and we would be thrilled for you to attend.” 

“Thank you so much, Kalyani. I’ve heard a lot about Youth Actors Conservatory, and I’m so honored by your offer, but I’m not planning on switching schools at the moment.” You say as graciously as you can. 

“Of course, I understand.” She smiles. 

“Thank you again for the opportunity, and I hope we can work together in the future.” You smile back, saying goodbye, and making your way over to Ricky and your parents. 

After returning to the dressing rooms to write sad song lyrics and watch herself cry in the mirror, when Nina finally finds her moms in the lobby, she has a piece of good news for once.

“The dean of YAC!” she exclaims. 

“I thought they were full, sweetie.” Carol says. She and Dana had gotten a rejection letter addressed to Nini a few days ago, and were trying to find the right time to break the news. 

“She said a spot opened up,” she beams, “which means I’m going to YAC!” 

Her moms hug her, congratulating her on the good news, and that they’d discuss it in detail at home. Nina looks over to where you and Ricky are standing. He holds your hands in his while you talk quietly. You have no idea that soon she’ll be out of here, and you’ll never see her again. She was on the fence, but after what he said to you, she’s made up her mind. She’s leaving this town, and going somewhere that she’ll be appreciated, somewhere she’s wanted. If that happens to be a boarding school in Colorado, then so be it. ‘Take a good look’, she thinks, ‘because that’s the last you’ll ever see of Nini Salazar-Roberts.’ 

 After more mingling, congratulations, flowers, and playbill signing, you turn to Ricky.

“You ready to go home?” you ask, walking toward your car. He stops, turning to look at you. 

“You know what? No.” he lets out a breathy laugh. “I don’t want to go home. I… want to go to Denny’s! I’m a theatre kid, and I just finished my first show, and it’s like, tradition to go to Denny’s, so I want to!” You smile at his sudden enthusiasm, laughter matching his. 

“Yeah, okay,” you smile, “let’s go!” 

You both walk over to your castmates, who are trying to figure out a carpool to get everyone there before it gets any later. You nudge Ricky.

“So, does anyone need a ride to Denny’s, or should we just meet you there?” he asks. For what feels like the millionth time, everyone erupts into cheers. You know all your friends were worried about him after what happened, and Seb instigates a group hug, that everyone quickly jumps on to. You think it’s important to end the night on a good note like this, spending time with your castmates, cramming into booths and singing obnoxiously in an empty restaurant. It’s sort of a rite of passage, and you’re glad that Ricky’s able to participate, especially after opening night of his first show. 

You sleep over at his place that night. After everything Ricky’s been through, after he seems to finally be okay again, the last thing Mike wants to do is not let him spend time with someone he’s so close to - especially considering what a good influence Mike thinks you are on him. From what Ricky told him, you didn’t instigate any drama tonight, and spent every spare moment off stage trying to help Ricky through what was going on. It’s not the first time you’ve helped Ricky navigate the ups and downs of growing up in the time you’ve known him, so when Ricky asked if you could stay the night, he agreed. While you’re brushing your teeth, Mike pulls Ricky aside to talk. 

“I spoke to Nini’s moms,” he starts, and Ricky braces himself. “They’re going to talk to her, and I said I’d talk to you to make sure these last shows go smoothly, alright? So, no more fights, no arguing, no more of this… reality tv stuff.” 

“Believe me,” Ricky sighs, “I don’t want any more drama. Especially at the expense of the show.” 

“I know,” Mike agrees. “So just… it’s only a few more shows. Try your best to…” he looks for the words.

“Politely avoid each other?” Ricky supplements.

“Exactly.” Mike nods. “Just politely avoid each other for a few more days, and all this will blow over.” 

When he finally reenters his room, he hands you a t shirt to wear. He knows you probably brought pajamas, but he wants to tell you he loves you in as many ways as he can, like wearing his clothes. When you come back in and sit on his bed in his big shirt and your little shorts, he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked more beautiful. 

“Do you want to talk about anything?” you ask tentatively. 

“Not really,” he chuckles. “I feel like I’ve kind of talked it all to death by now.”

“You know what we haven’t talked about?” you ask, a look in your eye that immediately has his attention. “How Nina and EJ - but like, mostly Nina - ruined the finale of the show.” 

“Yeah,” he starts, remembering how stunned he was. “What the fuck was that?” 

You talk shit until you have nothing else to say about it, and soon you’re curled up under the covers together. You’re laughing and talking, and things almost feel normal again. It’s like every bad thing never happened tonight. He doesn’t know how you do it, how you make things feel so okay again, but he holds you tight, clinging onto the feeling. He was going to say it earlier, but he was so distracted by you, by how beautiful you are. 

“I love you.” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He feels you smile against his chest. 

“I love you too, Ricky.” 

You sound so content, so comfortable with him, and he feels like his heart is going to burst. 

“I love you,” he says again, running his fingers along your waist. 

“I love you too,” you giggle sleepily. Every time you think he’s asleep, he says it again, and again, and again. He can’t help himself, he loves the way you blush and giggle, loves how warm you are against him, loves the way you say it back to him. It’s quiet for a little while, but you feel his hands still tracing little shapes into your skin. You glance up at him to find him staring at you  in that way that makes your stomach twist. 

“Close your eyes,” you mutter, drowsy. 

“But I love you.” he replies quietly, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “I love looking at you. I love everything about you.” 

“I love you too,” you answer groggily, and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt better than he does when you say it like that. “But we have a full day of school in the morning, then homework, then another show to perform in, so we have to get at least a little sleep.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, eyes growing heavy as the day catches up to him. “As long as we have time for coffee and peach scones.”

“There is literally always time for coffee and peach scones.” he chuckles at how quickly you respond. You lean up, pressing a kiss to his nose, then snuggle back into his chest. It’s his favorite time of day again, he realizes, where he gets to sleep next to you, and kiss, and cuddle. Except this time, it’s better than it ever has been, because right before you fall asleep, he gets to say it.

“I love you.” he breathes, kissing your forehead.

“‘Love you too.” you mutter, barely awake. Your words reverberate and replay in his mind as he closes his eyes, finally drifting off. He doesn’t know how the next shows are going to go, he doesn't know what’s going to happen tomorrow, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about what will happen when the sun rises,  he’s just excited for it to happen with you. He sleeps better than he has in a long time. 

#hsmtmts ricky #ricky bowen #ricky bowen x reader #hsmtmts #hsmtmts x reader #rocks at your window #I was watching the first episode and there were all the flashes and jumpscares of basment guy (idk his name) but I was like #'oh that guy? that's babyman. he's my neighbor :)' #I love that violet is both pro smoking and pro litter btw #bold stance

[fbfh]

rocks at your window pt. 6 - ricky bowen x reader

disclaimer: this series contains smut and chapter by chapter warnings, so as with all nsfw works, ricky is aged up to 18+!! ricky and reader are 18 and in their senior year

additionally, we're working towards a ricky x therapy plot so he's going to start expressing some symptoms of mental illness and bpd but he does get therapy eventually and has a good support system but he gets worse before he gets better yk. Obviously I'm not a professional and this is for entertainment so while I have done my research pls take this with a grain of salt!! or several!! /lh

!! contains some spoilers for season 1 of hsmtmts, and previous chapters of this fic !!

wc: 5.3k

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, smut

pairing: ricky bowen x (afab she/her) reader

warnings: mike's a good dad, mike and your mom are the most iconic single parent bff duo, mike and ricky are both water signs so there's a lot of feelings fromt he bowen boys, LYNNE IS SO TOXIC, intentional and unintentional guilt tripping, todd /derogatory, ricky's spiraling just a tad /s, lynne calls herself mommy once /nx, passive agression and emotional manipulation from lynne, comforting ricky, more (brief) one sided gina pining, more background slowburn ashlyn x red, nina being a tacky toxic bitch </3, groping, grinding, fingering, bathroom sex/hitting it from the back, wrap before you tap, pressing on stomach/external g spot stimulation (we need a name for that), mirror sex, one brief mention of porn, clit rubbing, attention whore hours, trying not to be too obvious about sex, I think that's it

summary: As if the holidays aren't enough of an emotional minefield, Ricky gets blasted with back to back phone disasters from his mom, and trusts you implicitly to help him navigate through it. You turn the night around by going to Ashlyn's thanksgiving party with your theatre friends, where it's only a matter of time before you're sneaking upstairs together.

song recs: are you in love - the regrettes, nothing came out - moldy peaches, ribs - lorde, into you - ariana grande (bathroom at a party edit), lover's spit - broken social scene

a/n: got bad burnout/depressive episode in the middle of writing this (i'm fine now /gen) so it took longer than I wanted but I'm really happy with how it turned out!! I love you all and I'm really glad you're liking this so far, it really does mean the world to me babes <333 Also thank you again Cici for proofreading!!!!!

tags @yesv01 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @afidiofobia @aliyahsutherland @hopefullhearts @pikzel @demirunner @matiere-detoiles @ifilwtmfc @uselesssapphickitten @nxstalgicnxbxdy @ggclarissa @n-slayaaaaa @stormi-ames

Ricky has been dreading the holidays this year, and he knows his dad has been too. When she left, she took that warm hustle and bustle, that rush of excitement was with her. But he and his dad weren’t totally without holiday spirit, thanks to you and your mom. Your mom and Ricky’s dad bonded over PTA meetings and having their kids star in the same show, quickly becoming the single parent friend the other needed. Since your mom has been through the divorce wringer, she’s been there to support Mike, encouraging him to be there for Ricky and prioritize him. Mike has found a lot of strength and camaraderie in your mom, so when the holidays begin to approach, a joint thanksgiving seems like the obvious option. 

Pooling resources, helping each other cook, and navigating relatives together will both be much more manageable with a friend by your side, so they’ve been bouncing between each other's houses for the last week or so, coordinating recipes and travel plans. You and Ricky have been helping around rehearsals and homework too - just last night Mike watched you two sit at his kitchen table making paper leaves and turkeys, laughing for hours. 

It’s finally turkey day, and you and Ricky are wrapping up the last decorations while your mom and Mike get the final dishes out of the oven. Mike watches you two talk, giggling at something or other ever few minutes. He hasn’t seen Ricky like this in a long time. A few months ago if Mike had asked his son to do festive arts and crafts with him, he would have laughed. Now you’re both approaching him with a giggle, asking him to decide which hand turkey is better. Yours is really colorful, but Ricky’s has a funky little hat. He sucks in a breath.

“That’s a toughie… I gotta say it’s a tie.” 

“I called it,” you say with a knowing smile, and Ricky lets out a loud laugh.

“She did,” he tells his dad as you walk back to the dining room table, “she totally called it.” 

Ricky stays in the kitchen for a few moments to throw away all the scraps of construction paper and synthetic feathers, tacky with glitter glue. He watches you until you’re out of sight, and his gaze lingers. He lets out a soft sigh, overjoyed from being in your presence. It’s quiet for a moment. Mike lets out a soft sigh.

“You really like her, huh?”

Ricky looks at the last piece of cut up construction paper in his hands, the one you’d been using. He watches the way the glitter shifts in the light, the glitter you’d placed with your own two hands, and it feels like he’s looking at the starriest night sky he’s ever seen. He’s enchanted. 

“Yeah…” he breathes, obviously deeply lovestruck, “I really, really do.” 

That’s putting it lightly. He’s been trying not to dwell on the dream he had last night where you two had moved into an apartment in portland and adopted two dogs. He didn’t realize how badly he wanted that sort of thing, that life, until he saw it last night, but now it’s consumed his thoughts in every spare moment. 

Mike places his hand on Ricky’s shoulder. The gesture is reassuring and comforting, and brings a sudden unexpected wave of emotion over Ricky. 

“You work well together.” 

His words are simple, but there’s so much meaning behind them. Ricky understands this, and he’s grateful for his dad’s blessing. 

“Thanks.” Ricky says with another one of those smiles Mike hasn’t seen on his face since you came into his life. He’s happy he’s been seeing them again. He pats Ricky on the back one more time before sending him back into the dining room with you to hang up the decorations you finished. 

Mike goes back to the stove to check on the potatoes, and as it so often seems to, his mind wanders to Lynne. He's been doing his best to take your mom's advice, to let Ricky decide when and how much he wants to talk to her - if he does at all - but it's been hard. He knows how much a call from Ricky would mean to her, especially this time of year. Your mom enters the kitchen through the back door a few minutes later, and holds up a shopping bag triumphantly. 

"Butter, yeast, and nutmeg." She states, pulling out the ingredients they had run out of. Mike thanks her, but she doesn't miss the solemn look on his face. 

"You okay?" She asks, a knowing tone to her voice. Mike is so glad that she's been here. It's nice to have a friend, and some feminine energy in their house. He lets out a sigh, and finds himself rambling before he can stop himself. 

"I just know she’s miserable." He says, "All alone in a cold apartment, and during the holidays? We used to get so excited this time of year, I can't imagine how alone she must feel." 

Hovering outside the doorway, Ricky feels his stomach sink. Guilt creeps in, and he’s running up to his room before he can think.

As his footsteps recede, your mom lets out a knowing sigh. They've had this conversation many times before, and she’s happy to be there for him, to give him that support to make sure he doesn't backslide. The cleaner the breakup the better, especially when kids are involved - she knows from experience. 

"Mhm." She starts, and Mike fights a smile. He knows what she's going to say, but he needs to hear it anyway. "And what did you and her decide about communication with Ricky?"

"She promised she'd call at least once a week and I'd tell her if he wants her to call him less."

"And…?"

His silence is all the answer either of them need. 

"She’s probably upset," he says, reaching for an explanation, "I know she misses Ricky-"

"Screw that." Your mom says, pausing on the rolls she's making to look up at him. "If she wanted to, she would, Mike." 

He's quiet again. 

"Is there anything," she questions, that seriousness in her voice that only comes from a parent talking about their kid, "anything in this world, any bad feeling that could keep you from talking to Ricky for weeks?" 

"No." He doesn't even need to consider. "Of course not." 

She holds out her hand, point proven. Mike silently concedes. He's not sure what it is about Lynne that makes it so hard to detach, so hard to set and keep boundaries, but he’s grateful for the support. He couldn't do it without your mom. 

“Why don’t you put on some music?” she asks, knowing his favorite part of the holidays are his playlists. 

If Ricky had stuck around for a few more seconds, he wouldn't have found himself where he is now; pacing his room, biting his lip as he keeps opening and closing the phone app. The idea of calling her feels gross. Not calling her feels gross. He feels so fucking gross and he just wants it to stop. A wave of laughter passes downstairs as his dad starts singing along poorly to the Michael Buble now playing out of the Alexa in the kitchen. It should make him feel warm, happy, good. Instead it just makes his stomach drop and tears spring to his eyes. 

It feels like the universe is conspiring against him, throwing in his face everything she’s missing right now. He can’t get the image of her alone in a sad dim apartment out of his head. His hands shake as he holds his phone to his ear, dial tone ringing softly. She needs this more than he does, he thinks. No matter how much it’s hurting him to call her right now, he can keep it together. He can do this for her. He can be civil for a few minutes over the phone and that will give her at least a decent Thanksgiving. 

“Hello?”

Ricky stops in his tracks as an unfamiliar man’s voice reverberates through his phone speaker. 

“Uh, hi,” he starts, confused. He knows he called her contact in his phone. “...I’m trying to reach Lynne Bowen?” he swallows thickly hoping the stranger won’t hear the way his voice cracks. He doesn’t remember the last time he had to use her full name. “I think I have the wrong number.” he chuckles dryly. 

“No, you got it,” he doesn’t have time to process that before the stranger keeps speaking. “Ricky, this is Todd. I’ve heard so much about you.” 

Todd? 

“Lynne’s in the shower, can I take a message?”

He briefly wonders why she would have a stranger in her apartment answering her phone while she showers, but he knows this guy - Todd - must be her… He knows his fleeting hope that he’s wrong and this is some crazy stalker that broke into her house is just that, fleeting hope. His stomach is twisted up in knots and he can’t breathe right. His mind is racing, swirling and repeating the 10 seconds of this terrible phone call over and over. 

“Ricky?” 

Part of him wishes he could scream at this guy to keep his name out of his mouth. Hers too. He has no right to be anywhere near her. Not when she needs time to herself; so much time to herself, to figure this all out, that she can’t even be around her son. A very jaded part of him might understand if she never wanted to see his dad again, but a small voice in his head is screaming, asking why she’s okay with abandoning both of them. He’s her son, her child. Aren’t parents supposed to care about their children?

He hangs up the call before he can further this horrible pointless train of thought. He rushes into the bathroom, locking the door. He paces around. He splashes cold water on his face. He tries to get his shit together. He tries to make it look like he’s not about to break down. It’s Thanksgiving; this holiday might be ruined for him, but he won’t ruin it for his dad, or you, or your mom. He can pull it together, he can act like everything’s fine. He’s supposed to be an actor, right? 

After he desperately tries to collect himself, he heads back down, bumping into you on the stairs. 

“Hey, I was just looking for you…” you trail off. You take one look at his face, and he knows you know something’s wrong. “You okay?” 

Your voice is so sweet, so sincere that it digs everything he just tried to bury. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. It doesn’t have to, though. He can tell from the look on your face that you understand. 

“Do you want to go talk?” you ask gently. He nods. He can feel himself fighting tears, brow scrunching up at the effort. 

A few minutes later you’re sitting on his bed while he tells you everything. He knows he’s probably not making it sound as horrible as it felt, but he’s backpedaling. He can hear her voice in his head, telling him not to get so worked up over nothing, that he’s blowing this all out of proportion. 

“What the fuck?” you ask, looking as confused as he feels. He’s about to agree, this is stupid, and you should just go downstairs and- “What the hell is wrong with him?” 

He stops in his tracks.

“That was so outrageously inappropriate. I don’t know whether or not she told him not to talk to you, but obviously she should have.” 

He lets out a small breath, the first time he’s been able to since this whole incident. 

“It was pretty out of line, right?” he says hesitantly.

“Way out of line!” you say with a disbelieving laugh, “I can’t believe you just went through that!” 

He lets out a nervous laugh, feeling some of his distress transmute into anger, and because of you, he’s sure it’s justified. 

“What kind of lunatic answers their… I don’t know who he’s supposed to be - a friend, assistant, weird invasive neighbor -” Ricky laughs, and you continue ranting, worked up for him, “But unless he’s literally her life coach or personal assistant or something, there is no fucking reason why should have answered her phone. Also why the hell would he try to strike up a conversation with you? This isn’t some little league game, or PTA meeting!”  

He can feel himself coming down from the panic that had gripped him so tight before. 

“You know, maybe - just if you’re ready for this -” you amend, wanting him to know he’s not pressured to do anything, “maybe you should take her out of your favorites.” 

He sits with your words for a moment, considering. 

“Yeah,” he says, “maybe I should.” He’s already opening his contacts to remove her, when a voicemail pops up. He must have missed the call when you were talking, but he recognizes the number as hers. He lets out a weary sigh.

“I got a voicemail…” he turns his screen toward you so you can see. 

“Do you want me to… proof-listen to it?” You offer gently.

“Could you?” there’s a fragility in his voice that makes your chest squeeze. You accept the phone with no hesitation, pressing play and holding it to your ear. 

“Hi sweetie, it’s mommy…” 

Off to a bad start.

“Sorry I missed you, Todd told me you called, so I called you right back but I got your voicemail instead.” 

Her voice drips with a tone that’s obviously looking for sympathy. 

“I hope you’re having a good holiday. Tell your dad not to burn the turkey like he did a few years ago. I won’t be here to fix all the recipes, so help him out in the kitchen, okay?” 

There’s an edge of condescension to her voice that you don’t appreciate. Ricky’s dad has been doing great, especially under the circumstances. 

“My Thanksgiving is going well,” she continues, chuckling “Todd and I watched the parade, and some of those performances were really terrible. I don’t know who let them go out looking like that, and that tacky little girl on the turtle float was seriously tone deaf…”

You and Ricky had also watched the parade, and all the performers did great. You both loved the girl on the turtle float, she killed it. She hit a high C that left you both speechless. 

“Anyway, we’re meeting up with some friends later; I think this will be the first holiday party I’ve been to in years without children. Other than that, things have been fine. It’s been quiet, and a pleasure not to spend all day slaving away in the kitchen. Call me back when you get this, I’d like to hear your voice. Bye bye.” 

If you’d like to replay this message, press 7. 

You pull the phone away from your ear. You don’t say anything, but the expression on your face tells him everything he needs to know. You slowly hand him back his phone. 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t listen to that now.” Your voice is quiet, trying to maintain your composure, “Or ever. Maybe just delete that one.” 

He chuckles dryly. “That bad?”

“Oh yeah.” you state. He lets out a shuddering sigh, and it’s obvious the toll this whole ordeal has taken on him. 

“C’mere,” you say softly, flopping down on his bed and opening up your arms for him. His chest squeezes and he’s overwhelmed with another wave of emotion. He wonders when it will stop, constantly being bombarded with complicated horrible situations he can barely handle. It’s a lot. It’s too much. 

You wrap your arms around him, dragging your nails up and down his back in that soothing way that you do, and he feels it start to slow down. He’s still upset, anyone would be, but it feels like he can handle it somehow. He buries his face in your neck, soothed by your smell, your touch, even your breathing and heartbeat. He lets out another sigh, this one relieved as he finally starts to come down from the acute distress he’s been in for the last little while. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” you say, just loud enough for him to hear you. “It’s all going to work out with some time. It’s gonna be okay.” 

He doesn’t say anything, just holds you tighter. 

“Hey, kids!” You both look up as you hear Mike call you from downstairs, “Everyone’s here, come say hi!” 

You share a look with Ricky, silently asking if he’s ready. As I’ll ever be, his expression says. 

“Coming!” you reply. 

You spend the next hour or so greeting aunts, uncles, and family friends that both your mom and Ricky’s dad had invited. A handful of elementary school kids run around; cousins, kids of coworkers and the like. After a substantial amount of wow you’re so tall, the last time I saw you you were still watching sesame street, and countless so how’s school going? comments, the parents finally rescue you from someone's grandma - you’re not sure whose - and pull you into the kitchen. You’re about to ask when you can go to Ashlyn’s thanksgiving party, but they jump in before you can.

“Thank you guys for all your help with the cooking and decorating, you did a great job.” Your mom says.

“And,” Mike continues, “since you said hello to everyone you can go to your friends party whenever you’re ready.” 

You smile, blurting out a thank you in unison and hugging your respective parents. 

“Take these with you, and tell Ashlyn’s parents we said hello.” Your mom hands you a box or two of pumpkin bites to bring with you. 

You’re grabbing your coats when Ricky gets a text from Gina, offering to walk him to the party. He texts her back, letting her know he’s driving there with you and asking if she needs a ride. A second later, his phone buzzes again.

‘Of course you are. See you there.’ 

“You ready to party?” you ask, drawing his attention back to you where it so often resides. The drive is short and pleasant. When you arrive at Ashlyn’s a few minutes later, everything’s in full swing. Making your way through the house, you see Nini in the kitchen, having some intense girl talk with Gina. Most of your other friends are in the living room, including Big Red, who seems to be flirting with Ashlyn - or at least trying to. Ricky makes a mental note to ask him about that later. You pass by EJ on the stairs, who’s ranting to no one about getting ratioed. You start to sit down with your friends, then turn to Ricky.

“Do you want a drink?” you ask, and he nods, thanking you. You make your way to the kitchen, smiling when you see a case of Ricky’s favorite soda. You grab a can for him, then look around to pick one out for yourself. You turn around only to be met with Nina. You jump slightly at the unexpected presence. Before you can even greet her, she starts talking, staring you down. 

“You need to stay away from Ricky.” You’ve been here for three minutes and she’s already off to a strong start. “You’re not his girlfriend, so stop acting like it. I should know, I’m the one who’s known him since kindergarten.” You’re trying hard to be mature about this, even with the ridiculously incredulous look on her face. You take a subtle, grounding breath and think for a moment about how to respond in a way that will get your point across without causing even more drama. 

“Wow,” you start, “okay- uh, look, we haven’t made anything official, but full disclosure, we have hooked up a few times.” 

She looks irritated, and you continue.

“Also, you broke up.” you state, a shrug, your expression bewildered at how she’s acting, “You’re not his girlfriend either.” Having said what you need to say, you grab your own beverage and leave the kitchen as Ashlyn enters. On your way out, you hear her tell Ashlyn how she’s right, that she should stop writing songs about crappy relationships and crappy boys and just write about life. 

You sigh as you reenter the living room, glad Ricky wasn’t in earshot of that. After the day he’s had and all the shit he had to deal with from his mom, you’re sure the last thing he needs is another person to confirm all of his fears. You perch on the arm of the cushy chair he’s sitting in and hand him his drink. He smiles up at you, looking sweeter than ever, and you wonder how anyone could think he’s anything close to crappy, anything less than the most wonderful endearing boy you’ve ever met. You really don’t trust Nina’s taste in people. 

“I am so sorry,” Ricky says for the millionth time, ushering you into the bathroom. You let out another sweet laugh, genuinely unperturbed by the drink he’d spilled on you by accident. You make your way to the sink, turning on the warm water and grabbing a wad of tissues. You briefly run them under the water to get them damp, and start blotting at the very large stain. Ricky does the same, attempting to remove the sticky sweet liquid from your clothes. 

“God, it’s all over you,” he smiles, and you can tell he still feels bad. 

“It’s okay,” you say with a giggle, “Now I have a tangible memory from tonight, and a great story for the drycleaners.” He starts to relax a little, sensing that you’re telling the truth, you’re not upset. Even if you were, he’s sure it wouldn’t be at him - you know it really was an accident. After a few more minutes of trying to get it out with partial success, you grab more tissues to dry your sweater back off. Ricky stands right behind you, watching you in the mirror as you do. He’s enamored by you. Everything you do draws him closer and closer to you like a magnet. 

Satisfied enough with your work and mostly dry, you turn to throw away the damp tissues. 

“Okay, I think that’s-” the words dry up in your throat when you turn, suddenly face to face with Ricky. Neither of you had realized how close you got in the last few minutes, but now your body heat is mixing and it makes your stomach twist. Your eyes are locked on each other, and the air is pulled from your lungs at the way he looks at you. The atmosphere is suddenly thick with lust, and you can hear a song playing on repeat downstairs. 

His eyes flick between yours and your lips, bringing butterflies to your stomach. His hand rests gently on your waist as he finally leans in to kiss you. It’s sweet for a few seconds, then it melts into tongue and teeth and breathy sighs. Before you can fully turn around and hop onto the counter to let him stand between your legs, he’s kissing down your neck. You sigh at the feeling, bracing yourself on the counter, and he wants to make you moan. He wants to make you whine and scratch his back like you do, he wants it more than anything right now. 

His hands run along your back, down your hips and thighs, leaning into you. He reaches the bottom of your skirt, slipping his fingertips under and inching the fabric up. He squeezes your hips while he sucks dark bruises into your neck. All the noises, the soft little sighs and halted breaths are making him want to touch you more and more. 

His hands on your thighs and mouth on your neck are making you dizzy. You want him even more, and find yourself grinding your hips back against him. He lets out a hiss, and you can feel him harden against your ass. Your eyes flick up to his in the mirror, lingering on how flushed you're making his cheeks just by grinding against him. He catches your gaze,  noticing the way you smirk at every sigh he lets out. 

“Oh,” he mutters into your neck. His tone is playful as he gets dangerously close to your ear. “That’s how you wanna play…” He nips your neck before finally sliding his hand between your thighs. His fingertips brush against your clothed cunt, feeling the wet spot that’s already formed on the fabric. When he dips his fingertips between your folds, he can’t believe how wet you are already. It makes his head spin, as he slowly pushes into your entrance. After just a few pumps, sticky beads of arousal are already dripping down his fingers. He lets out a shuddering breath at the sensation. The noises you’re making, both your moans and the wet sounds of your walls around him, make his head spin. After a few minutes, you’re holding back whines. You need more, leaning onto the counter and sticking your ass out. It’s not a hard cue to pick up on, and he’s quick to grab a condom from his wallet. He pumps himself a few more times before slowly pushing in. You both choke back a moan as you squeeze around him. He feels his head grow fuzzy at the euphoric feeling of your bumpy walls squeezing around him, and it feels like being welcomed home. He braces against the counter with one arm, the other wrapping around your hips, holding you close to him as he thrusts into you. 

His face is right next to yours, and you can feel his warm breath against your cheek as he pants at the sensations wracking through you. He squeezes you tighter, and the pressure against your lower stomach has you choking out a moan, eyes rolling back in your head.

“Fuck-” you moan, trying your hardest not to be too loud. Everyone else should be downstairs, but you’re sure anyone nearby would be able to tell what’s going on. Ricky’s staring at you in the mirror. He tries to look away, tries to bury his face in your neck and press his nose to your skin but he can’t. You look so beautiful fucked out like this, so ethereal with your eyes clouded with lust. He can’t believe he made you like this, it’s all from him, from his touch.

Your expression, the noises tumbling from your pretty lips he’s just itching to kiss are better than any porn, because you’re the one making them. Everything is better with you. It always is. You’re whining, begging for him, and you feel the vibrations of his voice as he moans right next to your ear. You feel so good, you touch him so sweetly in a way he didn’t even know was possible before he met you. He’s so close, and by the way you’re squeezing and pulsing around him, gripping tight onto his arm, you’re not far behind him. 

He holds you closer, adding more blissful pressure against your lower stomach, leaning into you even more. His other hand moves from bracing you both against the counter to rub your swollen clit, sending jolts of electricity and pleasure through you. He’s been hitting that spot inside you over and over, and it’s more than enough to send you over the edge. You hold onto him for dear life, legs shaking  as you hit an intense high, your cum beginning to drip down your thighs. You throb and pulse around him milking as his hips push and stutter into yours. 

“Fuck fuck fuck-” he babbles into your ear, against your skin, “shit, I…” 

“Oh god, Ricky,” you pant, distracting him from the words that had come up as suddenly as his high. You have his full attention, looking prettier than ever.  He keeps his mouth busy, kissing and sucking your neck, running his tongue over your skin. 

A few minutes later, you’re cleaning yourselves up and trying to fix your clothes. You’ve been up here for a while, and with how loud you got toward the end, you’re sure someone is going to have a few questions. Ricky wraps up the tied off condom in tissues and shoves it deep into the garbage can, hoping no one will find it. You start to make your way downstairs, Ricky keeping his hand on your waist to help you when your legs wobble. In spite of your best efforts, you know it’s obvious - anyone could take one look at you and know what’s going on. You don’t mind in theory, figuring it’s only a matter of time before someone puts the pieces together, but the last thing either of you need right now is more drama. 

“Hey!” Seb exclaims, bumping into you on the way back to the living room, holding two drinks. “What took you so long?” he smiles. There’s not a thought behind his eyes, and you’re pretty confident he didn’t pick up on anything between you and Ricky. You look to each other reflexively, smiling nervously. 

“Oh, uh…” you start, fumbling for an answer. “Just cleaning up.” Not technically a lie, so that works. Ricky laughs, a blush still present on his cheeks. 

“Yeah, we started talking about the show and we just…” he suppresses another giggle, “got distracted.”  He keeps looking over at you, staring at your pretty face. He can’t help it. You’re glowing in the warm lighting, the glow of the fake candles scattered around other autumnal decorations. 

“Well, come on, we’re about to start playing board games!” Seb says with an excited shrug, before returning to the rest of your friends. You nudge Ricky playfully. 

“Real smooth,” you tease, at his lovestruck gaze. He laughs and nudges you back.

“I guess I need to get better at improv. Maybe you can tutor me?” He leans into you as he speaks, living for the flustered expression on your face. You laugh and nudge him again, knowing your friends could walk around the corner and see you two like this at any minute. His gaze lingers. 

You finally enter the living room, and before you can sit next to him, Ricky pulls you into his lap. Everyone’s crowded around the coffee table where Carlos has the game set up - it’s even High School Musical themed, which is really amazing - so you’re sure the lack of space is at least some justification for where you're perched, why his arms are wrapped around you like that.  

“Okay,” Carlos says, a small smile appearing on his face, “...you two, pick a team. Knights or Wildcats.” 

You and Ricky reflexively share a look again. 

“Uh… Knights.” he says, arbitrarily. 

“I’ll be on his team,” you say. 

“Alright,” Carlos says, and begins explaining the rules. Ricky tries to suppress the smile, the warm feeling swirling and puffing up his chest at your words. You want to be on his team. He tries to pay attention to Carlos, but it’s so hard when you’re so close to him like this. He thinks that aside from the rocky start, this is the best way to start off the holidays. He can’t think of anywhere better to be than holding you, still a little blissed out, and having a great time with all your friends. 

Your thumb brushing over the back of his hand, you’re trying not to space out too. You’ve been having a great time tonight, but you can’t shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen. You let out a sigh, trying your best to ignore it, to stay present with your friends, with Ricky. It doesn’t matter now, you remind yourself, if anything bad does happen, we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it. But for now, you’re going to have a nice night with your friends, and stop stressing about what could happen next.

#ricky bowen smut #ricky bowen x reader #ricky bowen imagine #ricky bowen #hsmtmts #hsmtmts x reader #hsmtmts imagine #hsmtmts smut #rocks at your window

[sunshine-julie-molina]

straight guys in theatre is officially my new favorite line

#cici watches hsmtmts #carlos rodriguez #hsmtmts

[sunshine-julie-molina]

i had an absolute breakdown over the seblos kiss

i was already crying from the climb and then just cried harder i also started hyperventilating while i was crying

#cici watches hsmtmts #hsmtmts #high school musical the musical the series #carlos rodriguez #seb matthew smith #seblos #frankie rodriguez #joe serafini

[sunshine-julie-molina]

mr mazzara is a total dad to the theater kids and i love that for him

#cici watches hsmtmts #hsmtmts #high school musical the musical the series #high school musical #hsm #mr mazzara

[sunshine-julie-molina]

CASWEN

#their friendship is so iconic #cici watches hsmtmts #hsmtmts #high school musical the musical the series #high school musical #ej caswell #matt cornett #ricky bowen #joshua bassett #caswen #rj

[sunshine-julie-molina]

i will never shut up ever about ricky calling ej “pretty boy”

#he’s right and he should say it #cici watches hsmtmts #hsmtmts #high school musical the musical the series #ricky bowen #ej caswell #caswen #rj

[sunshine-julie-molina]

that movie was about something seb

was it candles?

no seb

#THEY'RE SO FUNNY I CANT #seblos #cici watches hsmtmts #hsmtmts #high school musical the musical the series #carlos rodriguez #seb matthew smith

[sunshine-julie-molina]

Sofia Wylie is such a talented actress.

#her performance in episode 6- #ABSOLUTELY BLOWN AWAY #high school musical the musical the series #hsmtmts #sofia wylie #gina porter #talks with cici #cici watches hsmtmts #buffy driscoll

[sunshine-julie-molina]

“every gaston needs a beast”

kourtney ships caswen as she should

#so true of her #cici watches hsmtmts #hsmtmts #high school musical the musical the series #ej caswell #ricky bowen #caswen #kourtney greene

[sunshine-julie-molina]

“i feel like the clown from It” girl same

those are definitely some of kate’s real tears and i don’t blame her

#cici watches hsmtmts #hsmtmts #high school musical the musical the series #miss jenn #kate reinders

[sunshine-julie-molina]

reactions to the boys’ sleepover:

“seb doesn’t seem like the jealous type” maybe if you talked to him you’d actually know that “the farmer type” he’s worried that you’re only dating him because he’s the only other openly gay boy PRETTYBOY ej you’re not going to get rejected you’re both whipped “sweet boy”

#cici watches hsmtmts #hsmtmts #high school musical the musical the series #seb matthew smith #carlos rodriguez #seblos #caswen #ej caswell #ricky bowen #portwell #gina porter

[sunshine-julie-molina]

gina needs more hugs

that’s it that’s the post

photo creds: @organic-guacamole

#cici watches hsmtmts #high school musical the musical the series #hsmtmts #gina porter

[sunshine-julie-molina]

seblos piano scene my beloved

#seblos #seb matthew smith #carlos rodriguez #cici watches hsmtmts #hsmtmts #high school musical the musical the series #hsm #high school musical

[sunshine-julie-molina]

mr mazzara dancing is something i didn’t know i needed

#cici watches hsmtmts #hsmtmts #high school musical the musical the series #mr mazzara