[human au; teen au; no brozone au]
[character age gaps have been modified for story purposes]

"and then he kissed me!" shrieked poppy, spinning in her pink office chair and falling against the backrest all at once. her cheeks were pink, her mouth curled into an excited smile, her eyes sparkling like diamonds in complete and utter wonderment.

you were kids — freshly 14 — and you were entering a new stage in your lives; the stage that involved hormones, and puberty, and, in your case, boys. it wasn't exactly an unwelcome phenomenon, given that you knew that all teenagers must pass this developmental stage in order to reach true maturity, but it was unfamiliar and unavoidable, which made it all the more terrifying.

still, poppy had checked a box that you hadn't dared even begin to think about yet, and you were happy for her.

"poppy! this is incredible!" you hopped off her pastel-quilted bed (which was still covered head to foot in plush toys and stuffed animals, something that indicated that she was only in the transitional phase of puberty. you wondered quietly if she was going to throw them into careless storage units soon, and hoped in secret that she would not, remembering all the occasions in your childhood in which you had played with them together in your blissful childhood and weren't sure if you were ready to give all that up quite yet. you weren't ready for occasion to become nostalgia.) and grabbed her shoulders to shake her like a festive bobble head.

smile agape, her head rolled rhythmically as giggles sounded from the back of her throat. "i know, i know!" she jumped out of her seat and hugged you tight, bunny-hopping in tremulous jitters of unabated elation, and you soon joined her. 

"and like, branch is so hot." you added, stopping your celebratory leaps in an abrupt fashion.

popped nodded back. "oh my god, i know! i can't believe he actually wanted to kiss me!"

"poppy, you're like the prettiest girl in the entire world, of course he did!"

and while your world view was skewed to a small scale at only 14, and your commendation wasn't particularly verbose or profound, but rather kiddish and vague, your compliment hung in the air with an air of ingenuity. in your mind, it was true — poppy was in fact, gorgeous, and you did not yet understand the complexities of human nature and dynamics in personalities and why anybody might not seek a relationship, romantic or platonic, with your best friend. her skin was almost clear, her cheeks rosy. her smile was crooked and over-bitten but full and genuine and with a distinct charm. her eyes twinkled in the sunlight and her long hair was silken and bouncy. she was beautiful, despite her adolescent imperfections, and the lilt in your voice as you told her made her believe you.

she beamed at you. "thanks, girl. you're like, way prettier, though."

"no way, are you crazy?" you spoke harshly without thinking, gagging while sticking your tongue out.

poppy giggled her signature cute giggle and grabbed your hand, pulling you down to sit beside her on her plush bed. "speaking of you, branch told me something."

"oh, yeah?" your interest piqued. it was typical poppy to change the topic to someone else in her own moments of joy, but you couldn't deny that you were intrigued. "what's that?"

"you know his older brother?" her smile crawled up her apple cheeks with such energy that her lip quivered.

puzzled, you push for elaboration. "uhh, poppy? which one?"

branch had not just one older brother, but four. floyd, with his dyed hair and under-eyeliner, was technically his twin, but he was born thirty minutes earlier, so that still counted.

"oh, sorry." poppy bopped the side of her head with a curled fist. "clay. the one in the grade above at school."

at the mention of his name, you tried not to blush. it proved difficult. you shove her lightly. "yeah, you know i do."

in secret, with the exception of poppy, branch (only by proxy) and poppy's helpful older sister viva, you had been harbouring a crush on the brother second-closest to branch in age. he knew you in brief encounters, small doses, he waved you hello if he noticed you in the halls, but that was primarily because you were a close friend of branch's. and yet, each time his eyes met yours, your stomach flipped fast like a light switch.

"well," she smirked, "i got branch to bring you up around him."

simultaneously horrified and beside yourself with teenage excitement, you slapped her arm. "shut up! poppy, shut up! you did not! why did you do that?! what did he say?!"

"okay, so branch made it real casual, trust. we were pretending to talk about crushes — this was right before he told me he liked me by the way which was like, super cute and romantic but we went over that already sorry i'm like really happy about multiple things right now — and clay was in the kitchen while we were getting a drink, and branch was all like 'are there any girls at school you think are cute?'

"and like, clay kinda just shrugged and kept drinking his mountain dew but we kept pushing a bit more. this part is key, okay, listen up. branch — and don't worry, girl, i told him to say this — went in like 'not gonna lie, i think y/n is pretty cute', and clay literally started coughing his whole drink up i'm not kidding.

"and then he tried to be all cool so he was like 'uh, yeah, i guess so.' but he started blushing! full on. and the branch went for gold and was like 'should i ask her out?' and clay immediately started going all 'no!' and making excuses and that it was crazy."

poppy stopped to catch a breath, and you sat gobsmacked. could this be real? was clay really blushing at the thought of you? better yet, did he really call you cute? you made a quick mental note to thank branch with fries and a milkshake later.

"to cut a long story short," poppy gasped for air one more time, "clay ended up saying that he kinda likes you, and that's why branch shouldn't ask you. oh my god it was like super cute, clay is such a sweetheart, you guys are gonna be so perfect your kids are gonna be literally the cutest little things and—"

"poppy!" you said at least, breaking her from the nervous ramblings she falls into on occasion, "sorry. but like, this is real, right? i'm not dreaming? pinch me, seriously, pinch me."

she pinched you, hard enough for a little sting but too soft to burn.

"plus," poppy slowed her speech, "i already told branch that me and you are both going to his house tomorrow. clay doesn't have art class or band practice on thursdays, so he'll be home when we get there. and then, you two can talk."

without hesitation, you launched yourself over to poppy and hugged her tightly like she did you, once again bunny-hopping together. you intertwined your hands in a way that reminded you both that you were still kids and spun around in the middle of her room, squealing with a jubilation that could only be reached at this age.

the next day after school, your locker was shut and your bag zipped promptly, about five minutes quicker than usual. you slung your backpack over your cardigan and bounced over to where poppy and branch stood waiting.

"wow," branch feigned surprise, "you only took seven extra minutes to pack your shit today! you must be excited, oh i wonder whatever for..."

tightening an amicable fist, you mocked outrage. "watch it, tree-branch, you don't want to meet these bad boys." you kissed your knuckles, causing poppy to chuckle and branch to roll his eyes playfully.

the three of you skipped down the faux-marble-floors and slipped out the industrial double doors of the school building, chatting in a most unserious manner, as you did everyday on your daily commutes home.

"but seriously, y/n, real talk?" branch continued the previous topic of conversation, "you are disgusting for liking clay. like, fully disgusting. i've taken baths with that guy."

poppy shoved him in your defence, and he tumbled into a nearby bush. he clambered out and dusted down his shorts, attempting to scowl at poppy but having his infatuation with her take over and swinging his arm around her instead.

"i can't help it!" you kicked a fallen branch, though, it was not the branch you wished you were kicking, "every time i see him i get butterflies. he's totally cute, and like, super in touch with his emotions which is so cool. like, how many guys do you know who take painting classes and read classic literature?"

branch gagged. "one too many." the three of you turned up to his street — a sharp left at the old sycamore tree — and he continued. "i don't get why clay's so popular. so many girls like him, you know. amity, this girl in his painting class, she left him three anonymous love notes in his locker and, you know clay, oblivious, thought that whoever wrote them meant it in a friendly way. who the fuck writes 'i think you are a vessel of all things godly; a boy kissed by the swirling gods and stained with the tears of aphrodite so sweet' in a fucking friendly way?!"

you snorted. "did she actually write that?"

"yep."

"that's a little embarrassing."

"hey," poppy frowned. "i think it's brave to put your feelings out there like that."

"i mean... it was anonymous." branch reminded her.

her frown sunk further. "still, it's sweet..."

ignoring poppy's constant empathy, branch continued his story. "anyways, someone caught amity slipping a note in and took a picture to send to clay. clay said it was nice of her and she flipped out, yelling about how she loved him. it was super embarrassing. and then clay, sweet nice old clay, said he was sorry, and that he didn't see her like that, but he was down to be friends."

"well," you looked at him, "what'd she do?"

he laughed. "she snuck in after hours and trashed his painting, slapped some sharpie on it and poked holes in it and shit. clay was super bummed, he threw it out and didn't speak to anyone for a few days. he didn't tell me what the painting was or anything but he must have been pretty proud of it."

"shit." you gasped.

poppy shook her head. "you two are like sailors."

you and branch chorused in response: "what?"

"the filth of your language!" she tutted, "i oughta wash both of your mouths out with hand soap."

the three of you burst out laughing and suddenly you've arrived at your destination: branch's humble abode. it really was humble: for a family of seven, it wasn't all that big. it was dinky, with a poorly tiled rooftop and a shack-like exterior. the only reason they had enough space was because john dory, eldest brother, had shipped out for college. because of this, branch earned some extra space. clay got promoted to spruce's room (much to spruce's dismay, considering john dory just left and he was hoping for a place of his own), leaving the twins with a room for two rather than three.

jiggling the rusty door handle (you had to shake it in a specific manner regardless of whether or not it was locked, but locking it was pointless given that the lock was broken and the door was hard enough to crack open anyway), branch turned to you with some quick, but ultimately vague and unhelpful advice: "play it cool, y/n."

and the three of you spilled in, poppy gingerly taking her sandals off while branch flung his own sneakers off with a dramatic kick. you found a comfortable medium.

entering the living room, you all three made yourselves at home (which really was appropriate for branch) on the long sofa, slapping on the television and tuning into some wishy-washy after school soap opera. branch mimed snoring and poppy clamped a hand over his mouth, eager to find out what was going to unfold on the program that she'd been keeping up with since it started airing last summer.

just when you least expect it, you hear a deep, familiar tone sound from behind the tv. "'sup?"

it was clay — of course it was clay, he didn't have his usual extracurriculars, but that didn't mean your heart didn't skip a surprised beat when his smooth-as-honey voice filled the empty space. his blond hair was astray from a long day at school, his baggy jeans were a little creased, his button-down draped over his sweater vest in a way that would look lazy on anybody who wasn't so fueled with artistic passion. and, anybody who wasn't so attractive.

he began walking over to the couch and threw himself down next to you, and you decided you'd pretend not to notice the freckles kissing his skin as he did so.

"hey." he said casually, as if the word bore no impact, as if it were weightless. in truth, it didn't bare impact at all, but to you it did.

"hi." you managed to squeak back, and you berated yourself internally for how uncool you'd made that sound. in your peripheral vision, poppy and branch were hunched forward with their heads veered toward the two of you. clay scrunched his nose in confusion.

"what's up with them?" he asked in a husky whisper, his breathy tone filling your ears with a nerve-wracking warmth that sent your head spinning off its figurative axis.

you were about to respond when poppy had a stroke of genius. "um, guys?" she piped up, eyeing you down with a 'go-with-it!' look in her bug eyes, "me and branch are actually super invested and actually want to watch this program, so if you're just gonna talk..."

branch was about to protest when he noticed poppy's expression, and so he straightened up and put on a grouchy face, which was second nature to him anyway.

"uh, yeah, that's right!" he tutted, crossing his arms.

clay's confusion pressed further. "branch, don't you hate soap operas?"

but branch seemed to be prepared for that, and his response was quick. "uh, maybe i used to hate them, but relationships are about compromise. and so, if poppy wants to watch this shitty-"

poppy glared him down.

"-i mean, incredibly riveting, gripping, original, and not cringe at all tv show, then so do i!"

"okay then-"

poppy interrupted clay. "so, um, could you guys maybe go somewhere else if you're gonna talk?"

clay shrugged, placing his hands on his knees to brace himself and getting up from the sunken couch.

you glanced at poppy, unsure, but she shot you a look of support, so you averted your gaze to clay instead.

"wanna go upstairs?" he asked, twiddling his fingers. "unless, you wanna watch this-"

"no way." you chuckled, much to poppy's dismay, and hopped to your feet.

clay beckoned you to follow him with a wave. "cool, let's go."

and the two of you began to exit the open plan living room. looking back at your friends, they both shot you a dorky thumbs up, and you gained confidence quickly.

you started, behind clay, your ascent up the rickety wooden staircase, and shrieked with fright when your foot shot through one of the steps.

quickly, he whipped back to face you and grabbed your wrist, pulling you back up onto the stair. "fuck, are you okay?"

you nodded. you were a little embarrassed, actually, but that all dissipated when you looked into his worried eyes and realised that his hand was grabbing yours.

"i forgot to mention that," he shook his head, "that stair is dodgy. the repair guy was meant to come last week, but..."

you dusted down your jeans. "it's fine. really."

clay smiled at you; a kind smile that set free a swarm of tiger butterflies in your stomach. you reached the top of the stairs before noticing that his hand was still encircling your wrist, and he dropped it with haste, to your disappointment.

"we can go to my room," he said, gulping down his bobbing adam's apple, "it's kinda the only thing up here apart from everyone else's stuff, and the bathroom, but sitting in the bathroom would be very weird even by my standards."

you teased him before your brain realised what it was doing. "what, wouldn't that be some sort of artistic inspiration? you could paint us sitting in your bathtub and talk about how it reflects on capitalism: 'the only place kids can afford to hang out is their washroom sink.'"

luckily, clay found great amusement in your remark, throwing his head back to chuckle cutely. "yeah, and i'd call it something stupid like 'the protests of forlorn youth' and it'd be so influential and mind-blowing to all the old white man judges that they'd submit it to some famous gallery and adapt the concept into a six part netflix series which, of course, completely undermines the complex message!"

the two of you laughed in the space between the rooms for a moment and you realised that you didn't just think clay was cute because of the freckles on his nose or the dimples in his cheeks; he was refreshing to be around. he was funny, not just in passing but profoundly funny. he was talented and sensitive and mature and childish all at once. he was intelligent, intelligent enough to be stupid sometimes too. and despite all of these qualities, and the fact that anybody who possessed all of these reserved a right to be obsessed with themselves alone, to care only for his own opinions (all of which usually happened to artists, which could explain their pretentiousness), he was more interested in whatever it was you had to say.

he led you to the beaten door of his room which he kicked open rather carelessly, only to be met with a solitary spruce, somehow spreadeagled across his single bed.

"spruce. out." clay hissed.

the older boy rolled his eyes. "nope. this is our room, not yours little guy."

reluctantly, clay cleared his throat, motioning a secretive thumb towards you stood behind him. spruce's eyes widened and flickered with older-sibling-devilment, but he complied.

"okay, i see you." he joked, rolling off the mattress onto the floor and then picking himself back up. "if there's a girl involved that's all you gotta say, my man."

clay lunged for him but he swerved impressively fast, like he was used to being attacked by his taller junior.

stepping around clay, spruce made for the exit. you leaned against the cool wall as you stood in the doorframe, anticipating his arrival.

"have fun, kiddos!" he cackled, traipsing out of the room in a slow, teasing manner, knowing that every second he was in there was driving clay crazier. "don't do anything i wouldn't do!"

and at last, you were alone, though not without a sudden tension that spilled into the atmosphere when spruce pointed out the obvious. a boy wanting to hang out alone in his room with a girl he had only recently called cute could not be platonic, and you were hoping in silence that he might say something about it.

clay sat on his bed, tentative and upright, hardly relaxing into the mattress, and patted the empty space beside him as a quiet invitation. you joined him without a word, sitting with a noticeable gap between you two. in spite of the silence, it felt that so much was being said already.

"you're really cool!" clay blurted out of the blue to fill the quiet. he wiped his sweaty palms down his trousers, trying to shake his nerves. "sorry. that was too loud. but you are. and you're funny, too. i've always thought you were funny. that's why i liked that branch was friends with you.

stunned, you nod in appreciation. you wanted to respond, desperately, you wanted to respond, but your throat was dry and cracking as a result of a compliment from the boy you thought was the most beautiful to ever be born. maybe amity had a point with that aphrodite tear shit.

"and," clay swallowed thick but kept going, headed for a nervous spell where he might just keep speaking and never stop, "i have to admit, i only went along with what poppy was saying down there because i think she's trying to push me in the right direction here."

"and what's that?" you managed to spit out at last.

"the direction where i tell you first hand what i said yesterday."

there was a lapse in conversation as his desperate eyes locked with and searched yours, endlessly, his lips parted as he breathed heavy. in this state, his most awkward, most raw, most vulnerable, you wished you too were artistically inclined, because he was the pinnacle of teenage pining, and begging to be painted in romantic watercolour and framed, gracing the walls of an expensive exhibition.

at last, he continued. "i'm sure poppy told you, but i think you're really cute." he shook his head back and forth, racking his brain for improvement. "no, you're beautiful. i think you're beautiful. and i know this must be weird, because branch is my little brother, but every time i look at you i feel fireworks." he took your hand in his and placed it delicately against his chest. his heart was hammering fast and hard. "here. i feel fireworks right here. and god, the way you're blushing right now just makes you all the more perfect."

somehow, though you'd been fantasising about this moment since you first saw him two years prior, you couldn't conjure up a response. not immediately, anyway; you were frozen, or rather, you wished time was, so that you could bask in the glorious sunlight that this moment shed on you forever. at the very least, you wished you could store today in a glass bottle like one of those little model ships, or record it on the tv to watch again later.

"i think you're cute, too." you uttered at last, his hand still pressing yours against his chest. a grin grew on his cheeks and he dropped your hand abruptly, not in an uncaring way, but because he wanted to do something else.

he shuffled close to you so that your legs were pressed up against each other and leaned in. your lips touched, and at first, barely, but soon they melted against each other and relaxed to a comfortable rhythm, one that sent your heart racing further. he pulled back and looked at you, sheepish, waiting for you to say something, waiting for you to approve or deny his technique.

instead, you giggled. he nudged you in a playful manner, craning his neck down so that he could make eye contact with you more easily.

"what?" he asked, smiling.

"it's just..." you debated whether or not to tell him, wondering if he'd make fun of you or decide to go find another girl instead. then, you remembered that this was clay, and that he was the sweetest boy on planet earth. "that was my first kiss."

his eyes widened, and then he adjusted his posture, fastening a pretend bow tie. "well then, i'm honoured."

laughing, you leaned your head against his shoulder without noticing. when he felt your weight shift to him, he tensed at first, but soon relaxed, because he liked having you there. his brother's cute friend leaning against him, looking up at him from those long, thick lashes with those beautiful eyes? he couldn't ask for more.

"you know," he said, "this was originally gonna be way more romantic."

"i thought it was pretty good, personally."

he chuckled. "well, thank you, but it would have knocked your socks off the way i planned it originally. you see, for the painting class, i finished the assignment early, and the instructor told me i could just paint whatever i wanted. so... i painted you. because that's what i wanted."

you hid your face in his shoulder and smiled against the sleeve of his shirt. he could feel it, which made him smile, too.

"and i made this whole plan where i'd get branch to bring you to my art show and you'd see it there and i'd put the artist's statement next to it and it'd be me saying everything i've said today but like, more eloquently, like all poetic and shit. but this girl broke in and trashed it, so i had to scrap that idea."

suddenly, alarm bells sounded in your brain. so that was why amity had destroyed the painting. because it wasn't of her.

and while the thought of him painting you meticulously made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, you wouldn't have changed a thing about today.

you sat up, planting a delicate kiss on his cheek. "well, i think this was perfect, because it was you."

[end.]

well, that was not meant to be so long, but i hoped you enjoyed either way! take this as my apology for not uploading a lot, and ignore any typos because i am way too tired to proof read any of this.