flirting with disaster

prologue

            Andy Fowler was born to be a perfectionist, and it showed in everything that he did. When he was seven, he taught himself how to play the guitar, practicing chords time and again until his fingers were raw and bleeding – Which he hardly noticed in his concentration, focused only on creating beautiful music. When he was ten, after a particularly embarrassing incident in gym class, in which his entire class laughed at him for being unable to play basketball - (His arms had flailed when he'd tried to throw it into the basket, which seemed to loom stories higher than him, and he'd flinch away, covering his face whenever the ball was thrown towards him) – He turned the humiliation into fuel, practicing the game that he didn't even enjoy every night for a week until his arms were too sore to lift up, merely to be prepared for the next time, to be good at it – Not like the other kids ever gave him another chance at it again, anyways.

What Andy was most focused on, however, was school, which certainly didn't help with the whole 'friend' situation. In fact, if you thought about it – Which he didn't like to, because friends weren't necessary anyways – He only has one real friend. And, well, he and Brooklyn don't quite fit within the normal boundaries of 'friendship' – They don't go over each other's houses, or talk to each other about everything, or even eat lunch together (Which could be due, in part, to the fact that Andy eats his in the library. Usually students aren't allowed to, but his true fascination in books won over the heart of the librarian, who made an exception for him.) They do, however, have an unspoken agreement that, whenever a group project is due in class, that they will be each other's partners. They are both dedicated to their work, and Andy can trust Brooklyn to do his half of the assignment, and to do it well.

Andy Fowler does not like to fail. If he isn't giving his 100% into something, then, well, chances are likely that it's merely due to the fact that he hasn't done it at all. Ever since he was little, he has been a model student, straight A's and at the top of his class, almost a guarantee to cinch the valedictorian spot and the ability to deliver an empowering speech about the importance of education and doing your best at graduation, that his fellow students wouldn't listen to, anyways. Being the class nerd, Andy is looked past a lot – Except for by bullies, who will occasionally smack his books out of his hands with some dumb remark that Andy doesn't pay attention to anyways, because he's above being insulted by people who don't even know the difference between your and you're.

The only thing that Andy cannot fix, or erase the flaws from, is himself. And that is the reason that he has slipped out of his history class, and is currently crouched with his back pressed up against the wall, his hands physically shaking and his heart pounding so rapidly in his chest that, if he wasn't so good at science and biology, Andy would fear that there was a good chance that it would break out of his body entirely. Part of it was the pressure that he felt to excel in school – Any grade other than the top mark was a failure to him – And part of it was that he hates, absolutely despises, public speaking. He cannot stand it, but he knows that he'll get points taken off of his oral presentation if his voice is shaky, and if he isn't loud and confident. And, well, Andy's been working on this project every day and night, and he'll be damned if he's going to let something as small as a phobia get in the way of his perfect A+.

So, he is trying, and failing, to pull himself together to try and get through it. In the middle of attempting to regulate his breathing, which has slipped out of his control, his lungs sucking in much more air than was necessary, Rye, of all people, stumbles upon him. Rye Beaumont is the complete and polar opposite of class nerd extraordinaire Andy Fowler. He's been marked as a trouble child as quickly as elementary school, where he got angry far too easily and would get in tussles with the other children. Now, nearly six years later, he had lived up to his reputation – Long hair, black clothing, and tattoos snaking up and down his body, Rye was the resident 'bad boy.'

In the crude mock yearbook sheet of 'most likely-to's', a nasty tradition that circulated yearly, produced and spread by the popular doushebags that ruled the school, with categories such as "Best tits" and "Bitchiest," Rye had scored "Most likely to drop out and join a gang." He'd given the guy who created it what was coming to him, but they weren't wrong – In his spare time, he hung out with other teenage dirtbags, most of whose brains had shriveled up to the size of a peanut after all of the drugs that they'd gotten addicted to. Rye was the absolute last person that Andy wanted to see, so, despite being far from calm, he scrambled to his feet, ready to slip back into the classroom that they shared.

Andy did not like Rye. Despite thinking he was kind of cute – Even Andy couldn't fully resist the charm that came with the air of trouble that floated around him – He couldn't stand how somebody could, so overtly, even, seem to just not give a shit about doing well in school. Half the time, Rye never even bothered to show up to the history class that they shared – Which made it all the more surprising when he said, much more softly than Andy would've expected, "Wait. I have them too, sometimes. An anxiety attack, right? Let me help you."

Eyes guiding and patient, he reached out to Andy, who sat back down, partly out of fear, and he grasped his hands within his own, gently caressing his palm with his thumb. The same hands that had been curled into fists to blow punches, to knock people out, were shockingly comforting as Rye instructed Andy to take big breaths in and out, until the rhythm was bred into Andy, and he could match Rye's pace even with his eyes closed.

"Are you feeling any better now?" Rye asked, looking at him with the sweetest smile, the boy behind the rumors truly showing himself for the first time. Shy, Andy nodded, and Rye seemed to glow. "You've got this." He helped pull him up, and then sent him on his way with a reassuring pat on the back.

Standing in front of the class, Andy was able to swallow down his nerves and score top marks. When he began to feel overwhelmed again, all he had to do was seek out Rye's eyes in the crowd – Probably the first time that he had managed to pay attention in class all semester – For a wave of support and assurance. And, although he hated to admit it - Maybe a stray butterfly or two, as well.
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this story is a long time in the making! i figured that, now that i'm finally posting the first chapter, i'll explain how it came to be.
it first began when i wrote aly (fovvlers on twitter & fovvsndy on here) a short au, basically featuring what happens in this prologue. from that, she added details and stories of her own (endlessly distracting me in personal finance 👋🏼), to which i added details, etc., until i had the idea to make flirting with disaster a real, official thing
the chapters are written by me, but the ideas & concept are formed equally by me and aly (who is an incredible writer) (she's also satan but,,)
this is my first time properly collabing with someone or writing in this particular style, so i'm really excited to hear what you guys think
i'll be updating one chapter a week - every tuesday - for as long as i can. x