Can You Keep a Secret? (Prologue)
POV: Jack
Warning: Eventual boyseks, dirty dancing, r-rated grandpas, alcohol, open-mouth kissing, innopropriate touching, penis and vagina jokes.
Dedication: To you guys, because I love all your stories and I.. wanted.. to be a part of the... team? hah.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own All Time Low, even though I really wish I did! :) But I did, in fact, write this story myself. I also don't know exactly when Alex's brother died, so I'm just guessing here.
Author's note: This is my first attempt at an ATL Slash, so give me time, haha. I hope you like it, though! :'D Oh, and sorry if I steal like an idea or line, I'm really bad at this right now. But I swear it'll get better with time. I'm currently writing a straight ATL fic and it's getting good reviews from my friends ha. So, enjoy!
Making friends at school was always a hard task for me.
I was the class clown, but most of the other kids thought I was too stupid, annoying, or downright disgusting to make friends with.
But on one, bright sunny day, that changed.
I was sitting in the Principal’s office in 2nd grade (for flipping off the teacher, of course) when a bright brown eyed, light brown haired walked in with his mom. He had a Ninja Turtle backpack on, and I flared with jealousy. I wanted that backpack, but my mom didn’t get it for me.
“Welcome, Alexander,” the front desk lady exclaimed. “I’m sure you’ll make friends fast here!”
He just smiled and stared at the floor. The lady got up and led Alex and his mom out of the office.
As he passed by me he waved and smiled, and I smiled back. I hoped he was in my class, because then maybe I’d have another friend.
When I returned to my class after getting a lecture from the Principal about how a seven year old should not be using those “finger symbols” in class, I noticed Alex standing at the front of the room with the teacher.
“Jack Barakat...” The teacher signed. “Please come in and take you seat, without profane gestures.” I giggled and sat down at my tiny desk.
“Everyone, this is Alexander Gaskarth,” she explained. “He just moved all the way from England, in Europe!” All the kids in the class “ooh’d” and “ahh’d”, although no kid knew where that was. “Alexander, why don’t you tell us a little about yourself?”
All eyes turned on him. He shuffled his feet and tried to shrug the teacher’s arm off him.
“I’m seven years old, I have an older brother, and my favorite color is blue,” he said, but so softly I could barely hear him.
“Well, that’s fabulous,” the teacher gushed. “Why don’t you go sit at that empty desk next to Jack?” He did.
At recess, I was swinging alone on the swings when Alex came up next to me and sat beside me.
“Hi,” he greeted timidly.
“Hi,” I replied, looking at his face.
“Will you be my best friend?” Alex asked suddenly, handing me a really, really pretty, polished rock.
“What’s this?” I asked, taking it in my hand and turning it over and over.
“It’s a topaz pebble thingy,” he explained. “I got in England when I heard we were moving. I thought I’d give it to the first person who said they’d be my friend.”
I looked at him, and he stared back, waiting for my answer.
“Of course I will,” I promised, smiling at him.
Ever since then, we’ve been inseparable.
Once in fifth grade, Alex ran up to me and tackled me to the ground during one of our playdates.
“Guess what?!?!” He shouted, getting in my face.
He had me pinned - knees in my thighs, hands clamped around my wrists, his breath on my face.
“What?”
“THIS IS CALLED A WENIS!” Alex giggled, pinching the skin behind my elbow. I laughed along with him. We were the biggest perverts in the school.
“Oh yeah?” I retorted. “This is your pagina!” I poked him in the space between his eyebrows, and he rolled off of me laughing and clutching his sides. We laughed and joked in the grass behind my house until the sun started to set.
Alex was my best friend, and I knew he always would be. But recently I’d seen the deep brown in his eyes more, the way one of his teeth was a bit crooked in the front, and the way when he hugged me it felt as if I was happy for just those seconds and when he let go a rush of sadness flowed over me. I noticed his dimples, the adorable way he laughed. Everything.
Then there was the time in ninth grade when he called me up. I was sitting in my room, my feet up on my desk, contemplating searching for free porn on the internet.
“Can you keep a secret?” He asked as soon as I answered.
“Sure,” I replied. “Your secrets are safe with me.”
Secrets were a normal thing for us.
“I think my brother is going to hurt himself really soon,” he whispered, the air in my room feeling suddenly cold. “I’ve found things - blades. That he’s either broken out of his razor or unscrewed out of pencil sharpeners. Some have had dried blood and shit on them. He also wears long-sleeved shirts all the time - I never see his arms. I’ve confronted him about it, but he just told me to fuck off. What should I do?”
I leaned forward in my chair. Alex’s brother was like my brother; my heart was racing.
“I think you need to tell your parents,” I suggested.
But only a week later, I was standing next to Alex at his brother’s funeral, dressed in a suit.
Alex had been up all last night crying, and I had been with him. Every five minutes or so I’d hand him a new tissue and he’s hand me the old one filled with mucus and tears.
“Alex,” I whispered in his ear and wrapped my arm around his shoulders as we stared at the casket. It was covered in daisies, Alex’s favorite flower. He’d picked them out. “He would want you to stop crying. He’d wanted you to be happy, he isn’t suffering anymore.” But tears still flowed from his eyes.
“I’m going to m-miss him,” Alex sobbed. I wrapped both arms around him now, and squeezed tight.
This is the moment that I vowed I would stay with Alex, no matter what, throughout the rest of his life... whether he likes it or not.