ryder scanlon’s life is complicated, to put it lightly. he’s tall, gangly, perpetually awkward, and somehow carries the weight of a scandal that wasn’t even fully his fault. after his mother, meredith scanlon, went to prison for her part in a massive ponzi scheme and his father disappeared, he ended up in the care of his aunt, councilwoman mel burke. the political scandal left him isolated, embarrassed, and socially terrified. his older sister lennox adapted by being outspoken and rebellious. ryder shrinked. he doesn’t really know how to navigate the world of high school, of friends, of girls. though he’s desperate to figure it out. joe longo, the family’s nanny who was basically handed the job after working with the scandal-ridden scanlons, is his rock, his guide through life, and ryder looks up to him more than anyone.

and then there’s you.

you and him have been friends your whole lives, both coming from affluent upbringings. your parents would keel over if they knew you were still in contact with him after the scandal, after him burning 20 of his dad's suits and burning down their old mansion in an emotional breakdown, but you’re a breath of fresh air in his otherwise awkward, scandal-shadowed existence.

maybe it’s your presence, maybe it’s the fact that you don’t judge him, or maybe it’s just that you see him for him instead of the rumor mill that follows the scanlons. whatever it is, he trusts you in a way he doesn’t trust most people, and the truth is, he’s been in love with you quietly for longer than he’d admit.

so when his birthday rolls around, and he’s looking at another weekend alone in toledo, ohio — no plans, no friends at grant high, just homework and anxiety. you hatch a plan. you know he’ll never expect it, and maybe that’s exactly the point.

you show up at the front door, bag slung over your shoulder, hair messy from the flight, a grin on your face that makes him freeze in place.

you call out ‘surprise’, your voice bright and teasing.

he blinks. then blinks again. then freezes. he’s tall, awkward, lanky, but right now he’s just completely still, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. “y-you… what?”

you say happy birthday and that you thought he could use a little celebration. you brought snacks and gifts and everything.

he swallows, nervously running a hand through his hair. “i... i didn’t… i mean, you didn’t have to… i’m not really—”