Chapter Text
"Go get 'em, Michael," Grammy kissed Mike's forehead goodbye. "I love you."
"Love you too, Grammy. See you later."
Mike left the apartment building, hopped on his bike and rode toward Lincoln Preparatory Academy for his first day of freshman year.
His backpack bounced against his spine with each pump of the pedals, stuffed with fresh notebooks and the kind of optimism that only comes on the first day of high school.
He had never doubted his ability to succeed.
Academically, he was more than proficient—he had a photographic memory that made studying feel almost redundant. But he'd learned early on that being smart wasn't enough; you had to be likeable too.
Fortunately, he'd managed to secure a spot on the wrestling team, which gave him just enough athletic credibility to avoid the "nerd" label that could make high school hell.
He didn't get into anyone's business, never bragged about the fact that he barely had to crack open a textbook, and most importantly, he had friends.
Trevor and Jenny had been constants since elementary school. They'd been through everything together—scraped knees, terrible haircuts, that phase where Trevor thought he could skateboard.
All he had to do was keep being an excellent student and avoid unnecessary trouble. Simple enough.
~
"Harvey, please," Lily, Harvey's mom, pleaded from the doorway of his bedroom.
She reached for his shoulder, but he shrugged her off before she could make contact, the movement sharp and instinctive.
He grabbed his backpack without looking at her, his jaw tight. "No, Mom, you don't get to do this to me. I know what I saw. How could you—"
"I can explain, Harvey, I swear—"
"Save it. I'm already late for school."
He pushed past her and took the stairs two at a time, his vision blurring at the edges with anger. By the time he reached the street, the school bus was already pulling away from the corner, its brake lights mocking him in the distance.
Perfect. Just perfect.
His parking pass had expired over the summer—he'd completely forgotten to renew it. First day back and he couldn't even drive to school.
Harvey had to walk a whole mile to the nearest metro station, his shirt sticking to his back in the humidity.
He didn't make it in time for his first class—AP Government with Professor Hardman, who was notoriously ruthless about punctuality. One could say he was having a terrible first day of junior year.
At least he'd spent all summer on tour with his dad, following him from jazz club to jazz club across the northeast. He had good stories to tell Donna, his best friend, who would undoubtedly want every detail.
What he was going to do about the mess his mom had created—the image of her with him burned into Harvey's brain—that he didn't have an answer for yet.
Harvey avoided thinking about it and waited until his next class. He decided to kill some time checking in with Coach Martinez about baseball tryouts, so he headed toward the athletics wing, his sneakers squeaking against the polished linoleum.
He turned the corner near the gym and—
Thud.
"Sorry—"
"Shit, I'm sorry—"
Harvey looked up and found himself face-to-face with a kid who couldn't be older than fifteen. Pale skin, hair that stuck up a little in the back like he'd just rolled out of bed, and the most striking blue eyes Harvey had ever seen on another human being. He'd heard about this kid—some kind of genius who always took first place in Spelling Bees and could recite every textbook by heart after the first week of school.
"Don't worry about it," Harvey said, adjusting his backpack. "I've had a rough morning and wasn't looking where I was going."
"Sorry to hear that." The kid shifted his weight, glancing past Harvey like he was looking for an escape route. "So, uh, I was just heading out—"
"Wait, is Coach Martinez in his office?"
"The baseball coach?" The kid blinked. "I couldn't really tell you. I was just checking the board for wrestling practice schedules."
"Oh. Okay, thanks anyway." Harvey studied him for a second longer. "Are you skipping class?"
"Not really. I finished an assignment early and the teacher let me go."
"Right." Harvey smirked. "Forgot you were some kind of prodigy."
The kid's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, do people actually say that about me?"
"People talk, yeah. Don't know how much of it is true, but so far the math is mathing."
The kid let out a surprised laugh, and Harvey found himself grinning despite the weight of the morning.
Behind them, a door creaked open. Coach Martinez stepped out of his office, clipboard in hand, whistle around his neck.
The kid glanced over his shoulder. "Looks like he's there after all." He took a step back, giving Harvey space. "I'll leave you to it."
"Wait—what was your name again?" Harvey knew it was something like… Matt? Mark?
"Mike. Ross."
Harvey extended his hand. "Harvey Specter."
Mike shook it confidently. "Cool. See you around, Harvey."
Harvey watched him walk away, hands shoved in his pockets, moving through the hallway with an ease that didn't quite match the awkwardness from a minute ago.
Hm. Interesting kid.