The Graduation Complication | Tyrus

Third

TJ's POV

When Cyrus steps into my room, it suddenly hits me that we're graduating. He stands with his blue gown on over his dress shirt and pants, smiling as I approach him. We only have a few more weeks left as high schoolers, and after that, we're adults, making our way through the world on our own. But really, I'm not entirely on my own, because I have Cyrus. I take his hands, lacing them into mine as I stop in front of him.

"This feels surreal," I say. "We're actually graduating. After twelve years, we're finally graduating."

"I know," he responds. "Do you feel ready?"

"I don't know," I breathe. "It's a just so new."

"Well, I know you'll be able to handle anything life throws at you. And if you can't, you can ask me, and I'll help you handle it."

After taking in the sight of his smile for a moment, I step in, sealing my body against his as I kiss him, and it feels like being showered in stardust, the way the galaxy's light radiates out of him and into me. 

"Okay, quit sucking face," comes my sister, Amber's, voice as she passes by my door. "We gotta leave now, or you're gonna be late for your own graduation."

I back away from Cyrus, turning to my sister to reply, "Weren't you late for your graduation?"

"Yes, which is why I know you don't want to be."

She swivels around and hurries down the hall toward the stairs. 

"Why was she late?" Cyrus wonders. 

"She was sucking face with Andi," I answer. 

"I can hear you!" she shouts.

I grin and yell back, "I know!"

Cyrus's POV

I look to my right and see TJ in the chair beside me. Although his face stands out to me, to all the families sitting at the back of the auditorium, he must blend into the blue wave of caps and gowns along with everyone else. The class valedictorian, whom I don't know personally, goes up and does her speech, and the whole time, I can feel TJ's heart pounding anxiously in his chest. My eyes remain up at the speaker, but I let my hand drop down to my side, my fingers brushing his. A smile lights on my face as he threads his hand through mine, and the thumping of his pulse relaxes a little. 

Our plan is already in motion. If it doesn't work, we can't do anything to help it. All we can do is trust that the tech club has it all figured out. The sooner it gets to the moment of truth, the firmer TJ's hand squeezes mine. Eventually, the valedictorian says her last words, the audience claps, and the principal takes the podium. After a brief introduction, he begins listing the names. 

Ten names in, he speaks the words, "Jonah Beck," and my friend goes gallivanting up the steps, onto the stage where he receives his diploma, shakes a few hands, then goes to join the rest of the students at the far end.

Walker is only a couple names after him, and later comes Buffy, and then Marty, and suddenly, we've reached the K names, and the tension is higher than a skyscraper, teetering in anticipation. The principal steps up to the mic, leans into it, and opens his mouth.

"Thel—"

The sound cuts out, replaced by just a high-pitched squeal. The principal jumps back and covers his ears, and so do I and the rest of the audience. When the interruption dies, the principal returns to podium, looking baffled. 

"My apologies. Thel—"

It cuts out again, but this time there's no squeak. While the principal taps the mic, confused, TJ rises out of his chair and makes his way toward the stage, a smug grin on his face. 

When he gets up the stairs, he approaches the principal's microphone, getting close enough to say for himself, "TJ Kippen."

The principal shakes his head at my boyfriend, clearly suspicious and in disapproval, but TJ just carries on to collect his diploma. It's graduation. Punishing him at this point would be futile, and the principal knows that, because he lets it happen. As TJ takes his spot in the rows of students, he gives me a wink, and I see Marty reaching back from the row ahead to give him a high five. 

The principal takes a breath and glances down at the next name. "Cyrus Kippen." He hesitates a second. "Or Cyrus Goodman." Then he gives a questioning look to the vice principal who's standing next to him, whispering a question that the microphone catches loosely. "Is it Kippen or Goodman?"

The vice principal just shrugs and replies, "I don't know anymore."

"Alright," the principal says back into the mic. "Uh, Cyrus."

I stand, smiling all the way up to the stage and over to where TJ is waiting for me. As soon as I get to him, his hand finds mine again, weaving back together the way they should be. The audience claps as the names continue, and I remain smiling, aware that photos are being taken, but after about a minute, TJ leans down and speaks something softly into my ear. 

"What if I gave you my last name for real?"

My smile vanishes, replaced by wide-eyed astonishment as I whip my attention to TJ. My pulse fires like the gun at the start of a sprint, and every bone in my body gets tangled up in a curly, fluttering sensation. Did he just...? Is he...? 

"Are you asking what I hope you're asking?" 

A smile appears on his lips, and he reaches through the pocket slit in his gown, pulling out two silver rings. My mouth falls agape, and all I can do is stare at the jewelry. All my daydreams of our future—cuddling together on rainy nights, messing up recipes so bad that we just give up and order takeout, playing classic rock songs that we'll one day teach our kids on the piano—they all blaze through my mind like lightning. And I can feel my eyes welling with tears that I can't possibly control. 

"You got two rings?" I utter. 

"I've been saving up," he replies. "I was going to wait until after graduation to ask you, but I got impatient."

I let out a sputtering exhale as I hold out my hand, and TJ slides one of the rings onto my finger, giving himself the other. There's a word engraved on the metal, and I bring it up closer to read the script. 'Underdog'. My eyes switch to his ring, which has a phrase of its own. 'Not-So-Scary-Basketball-Guy'.

I suck in a shaky breath and whimper, "TJ, I'm gonna cry."

Correction. I'm already crying, tears streaming down my cheeks like raindrops down a window. Those around us all stare in wonder, but the only person I'm focused on is TJ. 

"Don't cry," he says, bringing his hand up to wipe my tears away with the gentleness of a feather. "You'll ruin the photos."

A laugh breaks through my sobbing while TJ smiles down at me, his thumb brushing my cheek and palm finding my jaw. 

And then the principal's voice sounds out once more, saying, "Please give one final round of applause for this year's graduating class."

And the crowd erupts, and I cross the distance between me and my fiancé, igniting a spark with our lips. I can only imagine what a wonderful class photo this will make framed in the hallway of Grant High. 

A/N: Hi. I really hope you liked this. I had this idea, but I wanted it to be more than a one-shot, so I figured a short story would be perfect. Thank you all for reading, and please don't hesitate to vote and comment and all that jazz, but if you don't want to, that's chill too. I love you all. Goodbye, lovelies!