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The many facets of Ray Beech,
A Rayella oneshot
By Ella Inspired
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When Ray was younger his older sister had dressed him up as a girl. No really. She even went as far as renaming him Emma. When their little sister was born; the tiniest, sweetest baby girl the world had ever seen; Ray was once again used as a little girl's plaything.
At that age, he knew his role – make his sisters happy.
But once he was big enough to fight both sisters off, he avoided playing pretend.
It's one of the reasons why he purposely avoided dressing up for Halloween.
The only time he put much effort into what he looked like and acted like was at school, he had an image to protect after all, and besides, that obviously popular jock thing was an aspect of who he was ergo, not pretending.
Otherwise as long as he was at home or with people he was comfortable around, Ray Beech was like every couch potato teenager that sat around in his boxers or tracksuit pants playing Fifa, again, not pretending.
"And wearing glasses and having a big nose…"
He scowled, and she smiled teasingly, poking her index finger into the indent created by his dimple. "You look cute in glasses, and your nose's distinct."
"I don't have a big nose."
"Sure...then explain the big hair?"
"It looks awesome on me," he answered. It does.
"Really, are you sure you aren't just trying to distract people from your nose?"
Very few people saw him without the show of spiky perfection, beach blonde hair; the designer shirts and jeans; the fancy sneakers; the letterman; those who really knew him knew that he liked putting on a show and that was just a part of who he was.
"I swear you're like Gatsby," she observed, tracing the rim of her cup as she sat across him. "You're all illusion and lies."
"Hey, I'm no liar."
"Psh, then what's all this?"
Without his glasses, at school and to the public in general he was just another good looking teenager on the cusp of adulthood - Ray Beech wore a crown of gold, had eyes of sapphire and dressed with the apparel of the designer stores people just daydream going into.
At home, he was another teenager with above average skill, intelligence and physical appeal. He was everything he was to the public albeit more relaxed if his sisters, Scott and his parents were to be believed.
But with his glasses, he was just moderately good looking. Average.
His letterman and designer jeans were replaced with the worn jeans he used when working on his car, his favorite designer black shirt, his converse and a Slytherin jacket because he really loved Harry Potter.
It was like the Jock-Ray and Home-Ray had a wrestling match and it ended in a random third party winning using a broomstick. The two personalities Ray catered to had completely lost their shit and now he had an identity crisis on his hands.
Instead, he answered, "It's me protecting our images."
"And I care about that how?"
He was about to answer when the group he surrounded himself with when he wore a letterman were pointing and laughing at them, mocking their boldness for coming to a place as crowded and as popular as Dante's.
Though laughing at them wasn't exactly it, laughing at her was more correct.
Why would the Stella Yamada want to be seen with someone so obviously less awesome than she was?
Because being seen with the Ray Beech would probably be much worse. There was no explanation that suited the public as to why Ray and Stella should be together so there was no way it would make sense to him.
This laughing business wouldn't have happened in the first place if she'd dressed the part, no one would question a mismatched duo being mismatched together.
But Stella was stubborn to a fault, no one was stopping her from being her and though she was once wary of his different appearance on dates, she liked to think he was just being Ray because to be anything else was impossible to her.
Ray wished he had that kind of thinking.
In high school, everyone desires an identity so having one so well-defined and acknowledged was a blessing, but also a curse.
Though having a label reminded you who you were; it also kept you as you were with people just like you. What was known was what was safe. Even if being safe meant rejecting everything different from you and forsaking the differences others have accepted.
And now his poetic side was showing. Damn it.
For someone like him with the true artist mindset – trying to be a million people at once only worked, when he actually knew who he was at a certain moment in time.
With Stella, that moment is hard to figure; frankly he was everything all at once with her.
"Are you still pouting?"
"No."
"Ray," she sighed.
He hated that sigh. Exhaustion. Annoyance.
"It doesn't matter," Stella reiterated, reaching across the table to stroke his hand comfortingly. Her irritation ebbed until her eyes were shining at him with the unwavering confidence she had in him.
"Just ignore them."
How could he?
The table behind them was so close to theirs. Dante's was crowded – wall to wall, people and voices filled the room, eyes constantly glancing and occasionally openly staring, gossiping and texting to fuel the rumors of Stella and her not-so-rockstar beau.
It was putting him on edge. First an identity crisis and now his girl being laughed at? Come on Beech, he ordered, get your shit together.
This wouldn't be happening if his jock-personality and his usual teenage boy-persona didn't have some kind of magic love child that was as self conscious as a prepubescent boy who just discovered girls.
If he were the Ray Beech at this moment in time, everyone would be simply watching in awe of them at a respectful distance and in general silence. But then again, if he were that Ray Beech, he wouldn't be so whipped for a girl as he was Stella.
Suddenly her gently smiling eyes flickered up with warning at the new arrival at their table.
Patty was all red hair, pale skin and short skirt; her cocky lips set in a smile, ready to spit vinegar on his biggest rival.
"Stella," she greeted, voice absurdly high – her fake voice, she told him once, "what are you doing here?"
"I should be asking you the same thing. Who let you out of your cage?"
Her eye twitched slightly, but she went at it regardless, "I was wondering what you were doing here, I mean, this is in public."
"Oh would you look at that, how many I.Q points did it take for you to figure that out?"
He coughed, trying not to laugh and give himself away. He was in a fragile identity position, if god forbid his geek escaped, Ray Beech, jock or no, would be a joke. He tried to get up to leave.
Patty, however, didn't want such a swift end to her public humiliation.
"Just where do you think you're going?" Noting that she was being too clearly riled, she eased back into a cold smile and gently pushed him back down before sliding her hand innocently over his chest.
Clearing his throat, Ray stepped away just in time to catch a flicker of sizzling amber, the eyes of an angry Stella. And angry Stella was two things: scary and sexy. Unfortunately this thought caused him to stumble awkwardly into his seat with Patty very accidently sitting on his lap.
Stella, who was standing now, leaned onto the table, fists curled – white knuckled and ready to give Patty another nose job.
"Rude much? Get off him."
"Oh, but he likes me here…besides, I wasn't the one being rude, I was just asking what you were doing here. You're the one who decided to let your bitch out."
"Well I'm sorry," she stretched sarcastically, "but when someone dumps their sloppy Joe on my lap for no apparent reason, I don't make it a habit to play nice the next time they come near me."
"That was just a little accident, like this one, though I have to say I like this accident more." Blatantly wiggling on his lap, Patty turned to him to offer an inviting smile.
He could hear Stella's teeth grind.
"If you must know, I'm out with a friend."
Urgh, his mind revolted. Friend? Really? Does that mean her and the Drummer make out on her back porch too?
"Oh really? Well I hear you two are something more," she prodded.
"If that's so why the hell are you on his lap, I know you're a home wrecker, but have a little class."
This seemed to be the line as Patty jumped off his lap, and walked around the table to properly face her. "At least I can get a guy."
"Who do you think he is to me?" Stella snarled.
"Well I don't know; why don't you spell it out for me?"
"You're stupid, I get it, but -" Her eyes met his abruptly and suddenly his identity crisis seemed extremely moronic.
"You can't get a guy because of well, everything about you Yamada, and I get it. But a little tip, maybe stop being such a bi -"
"I'd appreciate it if you don't finish that sentence."
Feigning surprise, Patty made an "o" with her lips and gasped. "He speaks!"
"And he would appreciate his girlfriend not being disrespected."
"Oh, girlfriend! So that's what you too are!" She seemed overly gleeful at this and called to the entire restaurant, "Look everyone, its Stella and her boyfriend!"
"Get more immature; no really, I'd pay to see you in a poop filled diaper." Stella deadpanned, arms crossed but cheeks flushed.
She only ever blushed when he did something extremely right. Score!
"Oh come on Stel, be a little happier, I saved you the work of having to tell everyone! Now what's your lucky guy's name?" Turning to smile meanly at him, Patty leaned in close before something became familiar to her. Maybe it was his nose? Stella did say his nose was pretty distinct…
"Ray?"
Yeah, it was his nose…
"Patty, get out of my face. In fact, feel free to get out this restaurant; you've made enough of an idiot of yourself." She didn't move, jaw still sitting on the floor. "And Stella?" His girlfriend (emphasis needed) also stood immobile, red and looking at him in surprise. He smirked and faked annoyance. "Could someone please get Patrica Timmons out of my line of sight, she's blocking the view I have of my girlfriend."
Ray Beech: popular jock, average teenage boy, poet and Stella Yamada's boyfriend. Identity crisis averted.
FINIS
So it's been an uber long time since I wrote fanfiction so I'm pretty rusty…no idea where I was going with this, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway.
Lots of love
Ella