Work Text:
1984
it's late, and Mac and Charlie weren't meant to be at the park, but they went anyway.
it had rained that day, and after Mac pushes him on the swings, Charlie has a big wet patch on the back of his shorts. they're running around, and it's almost dark, and they feel giddy with laughter and the novelty of being in the playground at night time.
Charlie is chasing Mac, leaving a little space between them so Mac doesn't get upset. he's stumbling over the wet grass and playground equipment, grass staining his legs and socks. Mac is trying to run faster, but he keeps falling over from laughing. Charlie is smiling so wide his face hurts when he finally catches up, jumping on him as they both break into hysterical giggling, rolling around in the mud, but they don't mind.
Charlie rolls off Mac, lying on the ground and staring up into the rain, their fingers still tangled together between them. Mac is half panting, half laughing, as he says, "you're like, the coolest guy ever."
and Charlie can't do anything apart from grin and kick her feet in the mud happily.
Mac continues, smiling up at the clouds like he could float away at any time from how light his heart feels. "imagine if you were a girl, and we could get married." he giggles at the absurdity of the idea, squeezing Charlie's hand tighter.
imagine.
1988
Char- Joyce is wearing a dress to school today. she's swinging Mac's hand in hers as they walk, her skirt swishing against Mac's cut off jeans and bare legs. she's smiling widely as she talks about something that Mac can't follow, half from being too preoccupied making sure each street they walk down is completely empty, and half because holding hands with Joyce is too awesome to care either way.
it's been less than a year since Charlie became Joyce. Mac isn't sure if that's transphobic or something to say, but he doubts she would mind. probably one of the top ten coolest things about her is how totally unbothered she seems by almost everything. the dress she's wearing now, something flowy and flowery that her mom found at a thrift store, is torn and muddy from tripping in the street, but she doesn't care. now, there's several little green splotches of embroidery dotted around the dress, which Joyce assures Mac are green monsters. they stand out against the greying pink and yellow, bright and wobbly and uneven.
as they turn the corner onto their middle school's street, Mac's stomach does flips, his sickening feeling of anxiety both amplified and muffled by Joyce's warm hand in his. Joyce seems blissfully and painfully oblivious, continuing to swing their linked hands. Mac whispers to her, "don't worry about them, I won't let them hurt you." more for himself than for her.
Joyce shrugs, like that's incredibly obvious. "I know you won't. you'll just beat them up or something." she smiles. Mac nods, squeezing her hand tightly as they approach Dennis' group. Dennis himself wasn't there, and Mac only vaguely knew most of them. he saw them stare at Joyce, at her dress and her hand linked with Mac's and her unrelenting smile. the first time that happened, a few months back, he felt a little proud. he thought they were probably jealous, because none of their friends were as cool as Joyce.
but they've gotten used to it now. and today, when they get close enough to hear laughter and the deadnaming, Joyce barely even hears it.
Mac, on the other hand, very much does. one of the boys, an older one, probably in eighth grade, is laughing and pointing and shouting in a way that makes Mac want to kill someone. frustrated, he lets go of Joyce's hand, and turns around. he's shorter and smaller than the other boys, but he juts out his chin stubbornly. it can't be that hard to beat someone up. Joyce lingers a few feet away, and out of the corner of his eye, Mac catches two of the other boys grabbing her arms.
"HEY!" he yells, spinning around and blindly thrashing his fists. that had usually been his strategy under pressure, because however much he practiced his awesome karate moves by himself, when it came to Joyce, his mind went sort of blank.
the boys are hardly holding Joyce anymore, one hand on her elbow just stopping her from stopping Mac. she wants to say she doesn't mind, she doesn't want him to hurt them, but that would be a lie. she likes when he protects her.
makes her feel like a princess.
1991
they don't hold hands anymore.
Mac never told Joyce that they were going to stop, but slowly, when she'd hold out her hand while they walked to school, he wouldn't take it. she asked about it one day.
"you never hold my hand anymore."
she hardly realised she had said it put loud, until Mac was frowning at her, a mixture of hurt and annoyance clear in his brown eyes. "I'm almost fifteen now, Joy. we're not kids anymore," he sighs, and kicks a rock across the street.
Joyce nods like she understands. "oh. yeah."
Mac confuses her sometimes. a lot of the time. but she doesn't mind him being mean while they're at school if they still have walking home together and throwing rocks at trains and running around when it's raining. they get to school, and Joyce starts to drag her feet, while Mac runs off.
high school hasn't really been great for Joyce so far. it had been how she expected, but not how she imagined.
when she imagined it, Mac still held her hand.
1994
people have stopped calling Joyce by her old name, but the venom that they say her real name with is somehow worse. it's raining today. Joyce doesn't wear dresses very much anymore, not to school at least. she's late, because she didn't want to run into Mac, but forgot that Mac is always late as well. they used to be late together, but now it feels like there's a wall in between them, trekking in step with each other, a few feet apart. Mac is wearing a trench coat that used to be his dad's, and Joyce is wearing a skirt over jeans that used to be Mac's mom's.
they walk in silence, not together, not really. the rain is heavy, and Joyce is soaked soon enough. Mac glances at her, saying nothing, before quickly taking off his coat and putting it around Joyce's shoulders, like boys do to their girlfriends in movies.
that makes Joyce happier than most things do. Mac doesn't look at her, just watches his own shoes, shivering slightly in his cut off sleeves and shorts. Joyce pulls the coat around her tighter. it smells like Mac, who smells like cigarettes and beer and leather. maybe the leather is just coming from the coat, actually.
Joyce smiles to herself. it's been a long time since she walked with Mac.
but then they turn the corner, and Mac waves to his friends, and Joyce doesn't wave to anyone. "heyy, Ronnie the Rat!" they laugh, but it sounds different from how it used to. he seems almost proud of it. "back to being Dirtgrub's guard dog, are you?"
Joyce is already walking away, but she stops, and turns around for a second despite herself. she sees Mac wrinkle his nose, laughing.
"I don't even know her."