Fireworks. [Chapter Forty-Three]
Title: Fireworks
Author: Harriet, a.k.a masokisstiic
Rating: R
Pairing: Alex and Jack, if the kids don't believe, make them believe.
POV: Third
Summary: So it's true what they say, if you love someone, you should set them free.
Disclaimer: Totally fictional, soz.
Credit: Title to YouMeAtSix
A/N: So I've finally updated after what feels like forever. I hope I don't disappoint you with this, I tried my hardest to be creative with it, but I'm a little scared you'll all think I've tried too hard. But ah well, what's done is done, and I hope you all like it.
Tumblr.
Masterpost.
Soft brown eyes drifted toward a mug of coffee set upon the kitchen tabletop, a quick boost of energy to keep the lonely boy alive.
Bony fingers stretched around the red porcelain, and Jack ignored the slight burning sensation on his palm. It was something he needed to remind him that he could feel. He was sick of feeling so numb, worse knowing that for the past couple of weeks, he’d had the option to change it all in a matter of seconds.
If he followed his heart, the young boy was positive that instead of sitting in silence with caffeine as his only company, he would in fact be smothered in that childish patterned duvet with those arms tightly secure around his waist and a mouth pressing playful kisses at his shoulder blade. If he followed his heart.
But it had always been Jack’s head that was the dominant of the two, and to him, this seemed to be the only sensible choice.
He’d get over it all soon enough, wouldn’t he? Time had always been a great healer to him in the past; he was positive that its magic could work for him one more time. Just be patient, he reminded himself every day that he awoke to a bedroom that just didn’t feel right, because that was exactly what it was, a room with a bed in it. Nothing special, as it didn’t belong to him.
“Jack?” A gentle toned voice broke the tension lingering in the air, and it caused the teenager to turn his head sharply, almost spilling his drink onto his lap.
“Maybe you should get to bed soon, huh?” Jack’s mother suggested, carefully shuffling in her slippers toward the table her son was sat at, and she pulled out a chair to perch herself on the edge. “We have an early start tomorrow.” She reminded him, and the thought only caused Jack to grimace.
Fixing his eyes back at his mug, Jack offered a light shrug, “I can sleep on the plane.” He murmured, “Don’t feel like sleeping now, anyway. S’only nine o’clock, I mean, I’m not ten years old anymore, Mom.”
“I know, darling,” Joyce chuckled, a hand reaching over to gingerly stroke Jack’s wrist that lie on the tablecloth. “Sometimes I wish you still were, though, still just an innocent child learning who he really was.” She sighed, “Things were much easier when you were ten, weren’t they?”
And although the question was rhetorical, Jack still nodded, though his lips remained sealed shut.
He could remember his childhood memories as if they only happened yesterday.
Running with a gap-toothed grin, his arms stretched out to the sides as if he were a jumbo jet, diving into the grasp of his father who spun him around until his laughter ached his little chest.
That was what happiness had felt like to him back then, he didn’t need love.
It was growing up that changed everything.
“I never cared about relationships back then, it seemed stupid, really. I mean I knew I wasn’t like the other boys because the girls just… they really annoyed me.” Jack had to laugh, “Playing with barbies, giving me a black eye by hitting me with a fucking teapot…”
“Will you ever let that grudge go?” Jack’s mother responded, shaking her head whilst chuckling. “She was only four, and you being twice her age at the time, shouldn’t have climbed into her play house whilst she was having tea! I’m sure she reacted in the way any woman would do if an older man crept into her home as an uninvited guest!”
Jack scowled as the memory played back, “She didn’t have to hit me though… I can still feel the pain now.”
“I’m sure that’s just your nose, darling.” Joyce teased, “Which reminds me that we’ll need to see a doctor about getting you surgery. I can hear it in your voice that you can’t breathe properly through it, so don’t tell me you can.”
Rolling his eyes, the younger boy had to nod, because he had no other option. “Yeah well, whatever…” He grumbled, before going back to his original argument, “I bet it was that stupid girl that made me gay.” He concluded, “I mean, I can’t remember being interested in any girl since such a traumatic event.”
“Oh don’t be so silly!” Joyce laughed, the thought almost bringing a tear to her eye, “You are such a drama queen.”
Jack huffed for a moment, pulling a displeased face at his mother, but his features fell and he let out a sigh. “I wish that was the reason though.” He murmured, before glancing back up to Joyce who offered a sympathetic look.
“And why’s that, sweetheart?”
“Because maybe the whole stupid thing for Rian would have hurt me so much that it made me interested in girls like a normal boy should, a-and then I could have had Alex as just my best friend instead of falling in love with him…”
Jack began to chew at his bottom lip as he thought of how things could have been if he were… if he were normal.
“Th-then I could have a steady girlfriend who I wouldn’t have to be wary of when walking down the street, nobody would think twice of a straight couple, they wouldn’t be thinking, “how disgusting” or- or they wouldn’t plan to beat us up because guys can’t hit girls, anyway. That’s the unwritten rule, isn’t it?
A-and then when things got serious, we’d actually be able to get married without being frowned upon. We could have a beautiful black and white wedding, and we could say the traditional vows, th-then the church guy will be all, “You may kiss the bride”, and everyone will be clapping and cheering and whistling and- and at the party afterwards, Alex could be there as my best man with a speech that his mom would have probably written for him because he sucks at those sorts of things, but he’d mean every word as he congratulated me and my new wife.
It would just be amazing, a-and then us, the happy couple, would go off on a honeymoon with matching wedding bands, and come back ready to start a family, because we could.
That’s an easy life, and I-I want it…”
As Jack’s words trailed off, his fingers threaded through thick locks, tugging at each strand as he mentally kicked himself for living it the hard way.
Why did he have to be the gay one? Even so, couldn’t that man in the sky let him even be the slightest bit interested in girls? At least then he had a choice, sort of.
But no, because for Jack Barakat, things never seem to be simple.
Complicated. Complicated. Complicated.
And the boy’s mother watched her son start to fall apart, knowing there was nothing she could do to help.
“Would that be what you really wanted though, Jack?” She asked calmly; before holding her breath as the male opposite her began to nod, but then he shook his head firmly, and she could finally let out a relieved sigh.
Sitting up with his back pressed against the slates of the wooden chair, Jack wiped his thumb beneath both eyes, “I-I guess not… I mean, I’ve learnt so much from this all, a-and love is love, isn’t it? I never chose to be in the minority of society, I wouldn’t have brought any of this upon myself if given the decision, I-I just got stuck with it.”
Jack even managed to smile, just for a moment, “Every day with Alex seemed to be the best day of my life, too. Knowing we’re different… it adds to the thrill of it all, I suppose. A-and I was so happy with him, even when we did argue and give each other the silent treatment for an hour or so, he understood me.”
“He was your best friend?” His mother smiled knowingly, referring to an earlier comment of the boy’s.
Jack paused for a moment, thinking, but then he smiled and nodded.
“That’s exactly what he was, what he is.”
“And he loved you?”
Jack bit down on his tongue, because maybe he’d been wrong to accuse the boy of something he had no proof for.
“I don’t know.” He answered bluntly, his face once more falling, lips turning down to a frown.
It wasn’t like it mattered anymore though, was it?
This time tomorrow, Jack was hoping to be back in Baltimore and leaving behind everything.
Every little memory.
Gone.
But it was in the moment of silence that followed, to which Joyce had to make up a decision of her own.
Could she allow her son to leave behind a boy who he still loved, and whom she knew loved him just as much?
If Alex didn’t love Jack, he wouldn’t have stopped by with that letter, and he wouldn’t have wanted the boy to move on with his life.
Surely, true love was caring for somebody else’s happiness, despite your own.
Jack thought leaving Alex was for the best, he thought the younger boy would be better without him. That was love.
Alex knew it would hurt to let Jack go, but if the boy thought he was making the right choice, then surely he’d be happier elsewhere and Alex couldn’t take that away from him by making him stay. That, also, was love.
Joyce knew she would probably regret this come the morning, but she had no other option, not anymore.
“Jack?” She asked quietly.
“Yeah?” Came the reply in barely a whisper.
“I uh- I forgot to pack your socks into your suitcase this morning when I was sorting them out. I-I don’t suppose you could do that for me now, please?”
“But I don’t have any socks in my drawers-“
“Just do it.”
“But-“
“Jack, for God’s sake just look in your suitcase!” Joyce exclaimed, exasperated at her son’s stubbornness, and she did feel a slight pang of guilt as Jack glumly excused himself from the table and padded up the stairs into his bedroom. He must have been so confused, and he didn’t deserve to be shouted at, but oh well.
- - - -
“Ugh, stupid fucking Mom, how can I do something that’s already been done? Jesus Christ, there was no need for yelling.” Jack grumbled to himself as he scuffed his sock clad feet along the landing, “I checked my suitcase yesterday and it was all packed apart from clothes for today and tomorrow. Ugh, she’s going fucking crazy.”
Jack pushed open his bedroom door, shivering as a cold draught slapped him in the chest. He fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt, lifting it a little through agitation more than anything as he stepped toward his bed where the large black suitcase lay.
Before reaching for a zip, though, he looked up at the blank walls and he felt as if he were just moving in again like he had done those many months ago. It was in this exact spot, in this exact position, that Jack had demanded for a change in his life, and now once again, he was doing the same.
Hastily unzipping the front of the suitcase, Jack flipped the lid open, a few toiletries such as his hairbrush and his aftershave had fallen onto the bed, but he couldn’t care less about that right now.
What captured his eyes was something that he wasn’t quite sure was really there.
Slowly, Jack leant forward, and just the tips of his fingers brushed the white paper of an envelope. He even felt a shiver.
“No… No, no, no, what the fuck is this, no, no,” Jack kept repeating to himself as his eyes flickered to reread his name printed in capital letters with a black marker pen.
“Alex.” He eventually groaned, because he knew that handwriting too well.
Handling the envelope, the sound of a chain clinking was what finally drew Jack to opening the damn thing.
With his entire body shaking, Jack slipped his index finger beneath the seal and his heart was thumping so loudly in his chest that he couldn’t even hear himself think.
Taking in a deep breath and keeping it locked in his chest, the envelope finally opened and Jack pulled out what was inside.
Pinched between forefinger and thumb was what appeared to be a letter written on several blank pages, (Jack could have sworn it was the same paper as from their scrapbook, but he could have been mistaken), and then lying in the open palm of his other hand was a chain. And that chain threaded through the tiny loop of a locket. A broken-heart shaped pendant. Alex’s name engraved on the side.
Jack let out a choke, and his eyes had already begun to blur as he held the locket to his chest, but he knew he’d have to wipe them frantically if he were to find the answers which he guessed would be written down in Alex’s letter.
So, with the back of his hand he rubbed at his eyes, before perching himself on the edge of his bed, and just staring at the paper.
“I-I can’t do this…” He whispered, “A-Alex, I- why?”
Was all he could stutter as he unfolded the letter, and began to read.
Dear Jack,
I’m guessing that because you’re reading this, you’re in Baltimore, the place where you probably belong, your original home.
I hope the flight went well for you, I know you’ve never been too keen on flying, but no doubt with you being Mr. Sensible you’d have your chewing gum at the ready to prevent your ears from popping during the landing. Haha, you can be such a baby at times, but I always found that adorable about you, even if I never did tell you.
I guess this letter will be full of that though… things I’ve never told you because I’ve been too scared, but this could be my last chance, so I’m taking it before it slips through my fingers like you did.
Part of me is screaming at you to come back right now, but I’m trying my hardest to hide it because I don’t want to be selfish anymore. This isn’t about what I want, this is about you and what you want, and what you truly deserve.
Though it hurts to admit, I think I’ve figured out now that maybe you’ll be happier back in America. You’ll fit in; you won’t get picked out for having a dodgy accent, and you’ll have your entire family beside your side to support you, not just your mum. Old friends can become new once more, and maybe you should give Rian a call? Weird for me to be suggesting this, isn’t it? But honestly, Jack, if you were to fall for him in the first place, he must have been a brilliant guy, despite the rocky relationship you developed, find the old Rian again, because I just want to be assured that you’re being taken care of.
Now, before you start to get narky, I’m not suggesting that you can’t look after yourself but we can both agree that sometimes you need a helping hand, and I can’t be there anymore, so just make sure you have just someone. At least then I can sleep at night.
But that just reminds me that our dreams will help the both of us so if you ever worry at night, then stop. Clear your mind, take a deep breath, and follow in my footsteps and stick a bit of Michael Bublé on. Listen to his voice, let the lyrics sink in, and just imagine. Paint yourself a picture in your mind, focus on everything you want, everything you need, and then you’ll be okay.
Just forget life and pretend. It’s always been the easy option.
Reality never did like us together though, did it? Things always seemed more perfect when we were in our own little world, and I suppose that’ll be what I’ll miss the most.
I’ll miss those times when we were just so wrapped up in each other, watching every little movement, taking in the tiniest details, that the day just passed us by without us even realising. We could even sit in silence; yet still hold the most fantastic conversations, just with our eyes. I’ll miss the way that yours sparkle when you’re happy, how they match your smile perfectly, but at least I have the photographs to remind me.
I guess that’s the one thing I’m truly scared of, you know? Forgetting.
Stupid though, I don’t think it is possible for me to ever wake up one morning and not remember everything we had, because those were the times that I truly knew who I was.
You helped me find myself; I became the boy my parents used to know: the Alex who was polite, kind, caring, and put others before himself. Now I know I’ll never go back to the upper school days, the bad times, ‘cause if I had then I wouldn’t be writing all of this. I’d have my middle finger in the air instead of waving you goodbye, and screaming a big ‘Fuck you!’ to hide my insecurities, building walls instead of bridges.
Obviously you became my bridge, as here I am, trying my hardest to continue my life as the person I was after I found you and before I lost you.
It doesn’t feel right saying that, though, that I’ve lost you. Technically it’s not true, I mean, I know exactly where you are, I think. I could search for you again, but I don’t want to.
I want to let you go and have you fall in love with a boy who is more worthy of your time than I am. Then, in the meantime, maybe I can wish that I find someone like you. I just don’t want to hold you back; I don’t want you thinking that you can’t move on because you think that little ol’ me is stuck in rainy England with five tubes of Pringles, Ben and Jerry’s, and watching Brokeback Mountain over and over again because it was ‘our’ movie.
It’s been tempting, but I haven’t sunk that low so far, I’m coping. I know you worry, so I’m going to reassure you that I’ll be fine. As long as you’re happy, then I can keep a smile on my face, no matter how hard it may be.
Maybe in the future though, we could be friends once more? Like when we first met, well, maybe the second time we met, or was it the third? When you just listened to me blurt out about my feelings, and you didn’t interrupt me and tell me to stop, you stayed silent and then you hugged me. You let me cry for the first time, and finally after you knew I was ready, that’s when you spoke. Nobody has ever done that before, not even the boy I used to call my ‘best friend’.
You were my best friend after that, even if you didn’t know it, and even though I myself didn’t want to believe it.
I was just incredibly lucky that you continued to be my best friend when we were together, you were everything I could have hoped for, and I think that’s the reason I’m more upset about you being gone than I feel I should be.
I guess I just want to be able to call you when things get bad, remind myself of how adorable it is that your voice sounds deeper over the phone, and then just tell you about why I feel like I want to just give up, and afterwards listen to you when you assure me that there must have been a reason for me to hold on for so long in the first place.
You always know what to say, even when no words leave your lips. I could feel better even just to hear you breath on the other line.
So please, all I ask is that when you have the time, and when you feel it’s right, contact me. Let us go back to how we were before we fell in love, ‘cause I think I’d like that.
I’m just sorry that this hadn’t all worked out the way we hoped it would. We were too in over our heads, everything went by like such a blur, and I think we forgot the consequences of falling too fast.
But most of all, I’m sorry for all of the shit that I have ever put you through.
For every time that you’ve cried because of something I’ve said, for every time that you’ve just wanted to run far far away from us, and for every time I made you sleep on the sofa because it was my bed in the first place and not yours.
I truly am sorry, for all of those things, but one thing I’ll never be sorry for?
The fact that you did fall in love with me.
And I will never apologise for when we walked hand in hand, or for the kisses and the few heated moments beneath the sheets, holding our breath to keep ourselves quiet whilst my parents were downstairs in the living room watching Deal or No Deal on the telly.
I’m not sorry for any of that, though sometimes I think I should be. I’m not sorry that you made me happy, I’m sorry that I couldn’t do the same for you half of the time.
So here’s to praying for the forgiveness that I know I don’t deserve, but hey, I never deserved you and look what we had.
We had everything, and I’m going to miss every little part of it.
I’m going to miss you.
I thought I’d been going well so far without saying it, but it’s the cold harsh truth, I’m going to miss you, every little part of you, from your irritating voice right down to your scarily hairy legs.
But I just can’t keep holding on to something that doesn’t belong to me anymore.
Even though it’ll be hard, I’m sure we’ll both be okay in the long run. All we need is time and patience.
I just hope that because of what I’ve wrote in this letter you don’t confirm your belief that I don’t love you, or never have done.
Maybe now is the time to tell you that when I said I’d always love you, I meant it with all my heart. Every chamber, every valve, and all those veins, arteries and capillaries that help keep me alive. I meant it.
There’s always going to be that possibility that I find someone else, but they’ll never be you, and if I had to flip a coin, when it’s in the air, it’d be your name that crosses my mind.
I have no words in my vocabulary to describe how much I really fucking love you, Jack; it had always been your strongest point to tell me how you felt, and this has been my weak attempt.
I just want to wish you well in everything you do, and remind you that if you ever decide to come back, I’ll be here, waiting.
I could never say no to you, and that'll be the day I’ll ask you that question that could change our lives, even if I know you wont say yes.
I promise.
All my love,
Alex
x
Author: Harriet, a.k.a masokisstiic
Rating: R
Pairing: Alex and Jack, if the kids don't believe, make them believe.
POV: Third
Summary: So it's true what they say, if you love someone, you should set them free.
Disclaimer: Totally fictional, soz.
Credit: Title to YouMeAtSix
A/N: So I've finally updated after what feels like forever. I hope I don't disappoint you with this, I tried my hardest to be creative with it, but I'm a little scared you'll all think I've tried too hard. But ah well, what's done is done, and I hope you all like it.
Tumblr.
Masterpost.
Soft brown eyes drifted toward a mug of coffee set upon the kitchen tabletop, a quick boost of energy to keep the lonely boy alive.
Bony fingers stretched around the red porcelain, and Jack ignored the slight burning sensation on his palm. It was something he needed to remind him that he could feel. He was sick of feeling so numb, worse knowing that for the past couple of weeks, he’d had the option to change it all in a matter of seconds.
If he followed his heart, the young boy was positive that instead of sitting in silence with caffeine as his only company, he would in fact be smothered in that childish patterned duvet with those arms tightly secure around his waist and a mouth pressing playful kisses at his shoulder blade. If he followed his heart.
But it had always been Jack’s head that was the dominant of the two, and to him, this seemed to be the only sensible choice.
He’d get over it all soon enough, wouldn’t he? Time had always been a great healer to him in the past; he was positive that its magic could work for him one more time. Just be patient, he reminded himself every day that he awoke to a bedroom that just didn’t feel right, because that was exactly what it was, a room with a bed in it. Nothing special, as it didn’t belong to him.
“Jack?” A gentle toned voice broke the tension lingering in the air, and it caused the teenager to turn his head sharply, almost spilling his drink onto his lap.
“Maybe you should get to bed soon, huh?” Jack’s mother suggested, carefully shuffling in her slippers toward the table her son was sat at, and she pulled out a chair to perch herself on the edge. “We have an early start tomorrow.” She reminded him, and the thought only caused Jack to grimace.
Fixing his eyes back at his mug, Jack offered a light shrug, “I can sleep on the plane.” He murmured, “Don’t feel like sleeping now, anyway. S’only nine o’clock, I mean, I’m not ten years old anymore, Mom.”
“I know, darling,” Joyce chuckled, a hand reaching over to gingerly stroke Jack’s wrist that lie on the tablecloth. “Sometimes I wish you still were, though, still just an innocent child learning who he really was.” She sighed, “Things were much easier when you were ten, weren’t they?”
And although the question was rhetorical, Jack still nodded, though his lips remained sealed shut.
He could remember his childhood memories as if they only happened yesterday.
Running with a gap-toothed grin, his arms stretched out to the sides as if he were a jumbo jet, diving into the grasp of his father who spun him around until his laughter ached his little chest.
That was what happiness had felt like to him back then, he didn’t need love.
It was growing up that changed everything.
“I never cared about relationships back then, it seemed stupid, really. I mean I knew I wasn’t like the other boys because the girls just… they really annoyed me.” Jack had to laugh, “Playing with barbies, giving me a black eye by hitting me with a fucking teapot…”
“Will you ever let that grudge go?” Jack’s mother responded, shaking her head whilst chuckling. “She was only four, and you being twice her age at the time, shouldn’t have climbed into her play house whilst she was having tea! I’m sure she reacted in the way any woman would do if an older man crept into her home as an uninvited guest!”
Jack scowled as the memory played back, “She didn’t have to hit me though… I can still feel the pain now.”
“I’m sure that’s just your nose, darling.” Joyce teased, “Which reminds me that we’ll need to see a doctor about getting you surgery. I can hear it in your voice that you can’t breathe properly through it, so don’t tell me you can.”
Rolling his eyes, the younger boy had to nod, because he had no other option. “Yeah well, whatever…” He grumbled, before going back to his original argument, “I bet it was that stupid girl that made me gay.” He concluded, “I mean, I can’t remember being interested in any girl since such a traumatic event.”
“Oh don’t be so silly!” Joyce laughed, the thought almost bringing a tear to her eye, “You are such a drama queen.”
Jack huffed for a moment, pulling a displeased face at his mother, but his features fell and he let out a sigh. “I wish that was the reason though.” He murmured, before glancing back up to Joyce who offered a sympathetic look.
“And why’s that, sweetheart?”
“Because maybe the whole stupid thing for Rian would have hurt me so much that it made me interested in girls like a normal boy should, a-and then I could have had Alex as just my best friend instead of falling in love with him…”
Jack began to chew at his bottom lip as he thought of how things could have been if he were… if he were normal.
“Th-then I could have a steady girlfriend who I wouldn’t have to be wary of when walking down the street, nobody would think twice of a straight couple, they wouldn’t be thinking, “how disgusting” or- or they wouldn’t plan to beat us up because guys can’t hit girls, anyway. That’s the unwritten rule, isn’t it?
A-and then when things got serious, we’d actually be able to get married without being frowned upon. We could have a beautiful black and white wedding, and we could say the traditional vows, th-then the church guy will be all, “You may kiss the bride”, and everyone will be clapping and cheering and whistling and- and at the party afterwards, Alex could be there as my best man with a speech that his mom would have probably written for him because he sucks at those sorts of things, but he’d mean every word as he congratulated me and my new wife.
It would just be amazing, a-and then us, the happy couple, would go off on a honeymoon with matching wedding bands, and come back ready to start a family, because we could.
That’s an easy life, and I-I want it…”
As Jack’s words trailed off, his fingers threaded through thick locks, tugging at each strand as he mentally kicked himself for living it the hard way.
Why did he have to be the gay one? Even so, couldn’t that man in the sky let him even be the slightest bit interested in girls? At least then he had a choice, sort of.
But no, because for Jack Barakat, things never seem to be simple.
Complicated. Complicated. Complicated.
And the boy’s mother watched her son start to fall apart, knowing there was nothing she could do to help.
“Would that be what you really wanted though, Jack?” She asked calmly; before holding her breath as the male opposite her began to nod, but then he shook his head firmly, and she could finally let out a relieved sigh.
Sitting up with his back pressed against the slates of the wooden chair, Jack wiped his thumb beneath both eyes, “I-I guess not… I mean, I’ve learnt so much from this all, a-and love is love, isn’t it? I never chose to be in the minority of society, I wouldn’t have brought any of this upon myself if given the decision, I-I just got stuck with it.”
Jack even managed to smile, just for a moment, “Every day with Alex seemed to be the best day of my life, too. Knowing we’re different… it adds to the thrill of it all, I suppose. A-and I was so happy with him, even when we did argue and give each other the silent treatment for an hour or so, he understood me.”
“He was your best friend?” His mother smiled knowingly, referring to an earlier comment of the boy’s.
Jack paused for a moment, thinking, but then he smiled and nodded.
“That’s exactly what he was, what he is.”
“And he loved you?”
Jack bit down on his tongue, because maybe he’d been wrong to accuse the boy of something he had no proof for.
“I don’t know.” He answered bluntly, his face once more falling, lips turning down to a frown.
It wasn’t like it mattered anymore though, was it?
This time tomorrow, Jack was hoping to be back in Baltimore and leaving behind everything.
Every little memory.
Gone.
But it was in the moment of silence that followed, to which Joyce had to make up a decision of her own.
Could she allow her son to leave behind a boy who he still loved, and whom she knew loved him just as much?
If Alex didn’t love Jack, he wouldn’t have stopped by with that letter, and he wouldn’t have wanted the boy to move on with his life.
Surely, true love was caring for somebody else’s happiness, despite your own.
Jack thought leaving Alex was for the best, he thought the younger boy would be better without him. That was love.
Alex knew it would hurt to let Jack go, but if the boy thought he was making the right choice, then surely he’d be happier elsewhere and Alex couldn’t take that away from him by making him stay. That, also, was love.
Joyce knew she would probably regret this come the morning, but she had no other option, not anymore.
“Jack?” She asked quietly.
“Yeah?” Came the reply in barely a whisper.
“I uh- I forgot to pack your socks into your suitcase this morning when I was sorting them out. I-I don’t suppose you could do that for me now, please?”
“But I don’t have any socks in my drawers-“
“Just do it.”
“But-“
“Jack, for God’s sake just look in your suitcase!” Joyce exclaimed, exasperated at her son’s stubbornness, and she did feel a slight pang of guilt as Jack glumly excused himself from the table and padded up the stairs into his bedroom. He must have been so confused, and he didn’t deserve to be shouted at, but oh well.
- - - -
“Ugh, stupid fucking Mom, how can I do something that’s already been done? Jesus Christ, there was no need for yelling.” Jack grumbled to himself as he scuffed his sock clad feet along the landing, “I checked my suitcase yesterday and it was all packed apart from clothes for today and tomorrow. Ugh, she’s going fucking crazy.”
Jack pushed open his bedroom door, shivering as a cold draught slapped him in the chest. He fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt, lifting it a little through agitation more than anything as he stepped toward his bed where the large black suitcase lay.
Before reaching for a zip, though, he looked up at the blank walls and he felt as if he were just moving in again like he had done those many months ago. It was in this exact spot, in this exact position, that Jack had demanded for a change in his life, and now once again, he was doing the same.
Hastily unzipping the front of the suitcase, Jack flipped the lid open, a few toiletries such as his hairbrush and his aftershave had fallen onto the bed, but he couldn’t care less about that right now.
What captured his eyes was something that he wasn’t quite sure was really there.
Slowly, Jack leant forward, and just the tips of his fingers brushed the white paper of an envelope. He even felt a shiver.
“No… No, no, no, what the fuck is this, no, no,” Jack kept repeating to himself as his eyes flickered to reread his name printed in capital letters with a black marker pen.
“Alex.” He eventually groaned, because he knew that handwriting too well.
Handling the envelope, the sound of a chain clinking was what finally drew Jack to opening the damn thing.
With his entire body shaking, Jack slipped his index finger beneath the seal and his heart was thumping so loudly in his chest that he couldn’t even hear himself think.
Taking in a deep breath and keeping it locked in his chest, the envelope finally opened and Jack pulled out what was inside.
Pinched between forefinger and thumb was what appeared to be a letter written on several blank pages, (Jack could have sworn it was the same paper as from their scrapbook, but he could have been mistaken), and then lying in the open palm of his other hand was a chain. And that chain threaded through the tiny loop of a locket. A broken-heart shaped pendant. Alex’s name engraved on the side.
Jack let out a choke, and his eyes had already begun to blur as he held the locket to his chest, but he knew he’d have to wipe them frantically if he were to find the answers which he guessed would be written down in Alex’s letter.
So, with the back of his hand he rubbed at his eyes, before perching himself on the edge of his bed, and just staring at the paper.
“I-I can’t do this…” He whispered, “A-Alex, I- why?”
Was all he could stutter as he unfolded the letter, and began to read.
Dear Jack,
I’m guessing that because you’re reading this, you’re in Baltimore, the place where you probably belong, your original home.
I hope the flight went well for you, I know you’ve never been too keen on flying, but no doubt with you being Mr. Sensible you’d have your chewing gum at the ready to prevent your ears from popping during the landing. Haha, you can be such a baby at times, but I always found that adorable about you, even if I never did tell you.
I guess this letter will be full of that though… things I’ve never told you because I’ve been too scared, but this could be my last chance, so I’m taking it before it slips through my fingers like you did.
Part of me is screaming at you to come back right now, but I’m trying my hardest to hide it because I don’t want to be selfish anymore. This isn’t about what I want, this is about you and what you want, and what you truly deserve.
Though it hurts to admit, I think I’ve figured out now that maybe you’ll be happier back in America. You’ll fit in; you won’t get picked out for having a dodgy accent, and you’ll have your entire family beside your side to support you, not just your mum. Old friends can become new once more, and maybe you should give Rian a call? Weird for me to be suggesting this, isn’t it? But honestly, Jack, if you were to fall for him in the first place, he must have been a brilliant guy, despite the rocky relationship you developed, find the old Rian again, because I just want to be assured that you’re being taken care of.
Now, before you start to get narky, I’m not suggesting that you can’t look after yourself but we can both agree that sometimes you need a helping hand, and I can’t be there anymore, so just make sure you have just someone. At least then I can sleep at night.
But that just reminds me that our dreams will help the both of us so if you ever worry at night, then stop. Clear your mind, take a deep breath, and follow in my footsteps and stick a bit of Michael Bublé on. Listen to his voice, let the lyrics sink in, and just imagine. Paint yourself a picture in your mind, focus on everything you want, everything you need, and then you’ll be okay.
Just forget life and pretend. It’s always been the easy option.
Reality never did like us together though, did it? Things always seemed more perfect when we were in our own little world, and I suppose that’ll be what I’ll miss the most.
I’ll miss those times when we were just so wrapped up in each other, watching every little movement, taking in the tiniest details, that the day just passed us by without us even realising. We could even sit in silence; yet still hold the most fantastic conversations, just with our eyes. I’ll miss the way that yours sparkle when you’re happy, how they match your smile perfectly, but at least I have the photographs to remind me.
I guess that’s the one thing I’m truly scared of, you know? Forgetting.
Stupid though, I don’t think it is possible for me to ever wake up one morning and not remember everything we had, because those were the times that I truly knew who I was.
You helped me find myself; I became the boy my parents used to know: the Alex who was polite, kind, caring, and put others before himself. Now I know I’ll never go back to the upper school days, the bad times, ‘cause if I had then I wouldn’t be writing all of this. I’d have my middle finger in the air instead of waving you goodbye, and screaming a big ‘Fuck you!’ to hide my insecurities, building walls instead of bridges.
Obviously you became my bridge, as here I am, trying my hardest to continue my life as the person I was after I found you and before I lost you.
It doesn’t feel right saying that, though, that I’ve lost you. Technically it’s not true, I mean, I know exactly where you are, I think. I could search for you again, but I don’t want to.
I want to let you go and have you fall in love with a boy who is more worthy of your time than I am. Then, in the meantime, maybe I can wish that I find someone like you. I just don’t want to hold you back; I don’t want you thinking that you can’t move on because you think that little ol’ me is stuck in rainy England with five tubes of Pringles, Ben and Jerry’s, and watching Brokeback Mountain over and over again because it was ‘our’ movie.
It’s been tempting, but I haven’t sunk that low so far, I’m coping. I know you worry, so I’m going to reassure you that I’ll be fine. As long as you’re happy, then I can keep a smile on my face, no matter how hard it may be.
Maybe in the future though, we could be friends once more? Like when we first met, well, maybe the second time we met, or was it the third? When you just listened to me blurt out about my feelings, and you didn’t interrupt me and tell me to stop, you stayed silent and then you hugged me. You let me cry for the first time, and finally after you knew I was ready, that’s when you spoke. Nobody has ever done that before, not even the boy I used to call my ‘best friend’.
You were my best friend after that, even if you didn’t know it, and even though I myself didn’t want to believe it.
I was just incredibly lucky that you continued to be my best friend when we were together, you were everything I could have hoped for, and I think that’s the reason I’m more upset about you being gone than I feel I should be.
I guess I just want to be able to call you when things get bad, remind myself of how adorable it is that your voice sounds deeper over the phone, and then just tell you about why I feel like I want to just give up, and afterwards listen to you when you assure me that there must have been a reason for me to hold on for so long in the first place.
You always know what to say, even when no words leave your lips. I could feel better even just to hear you breath on the other line.
So please, all I ask is that when you have the time, and when you feel it’s right, contact me. Let us go back to how we were before we fell in love, ‘cause I think I’d like that.
I’m just sorry that this hadn’t all worked out the way we hoped it would. We were too in over our heads, everything went by like such a blur, and I think we forgot the consequences of falling too fast.
But most of all, I’m sorry for all of the shit that I have ever put you through.
For every time that you’ve cried because of something I’ve said, for every time that you’ve just wanted to run far far away from us, and for every time I made you sleep on the sofa because it was my bed in the first place and not yours.
I truly am sorry, for all of those things, but one thing I’ll never be sorry for?
The fact that you did fall in love with me.
And I will never apologise for when we walked hand in hand, or for the kisses and the few heated moments beneath the sheets, holding our breath to keep ourselves quiet whilst my parents were downstairs in the living room watching Deal or No Deal on the telly.
I’m not sorry for any of that, though sometimes I think I should be. I’m not sorry that you made me happy, I’m sorry that I couldn’t do the same for you half of the time.
So here’s to praying for the forgiveness that I know I don’t deserve, but hey, I never deserved you and look what we had.
We had everything, and I’m going to miss every little part of it.
I’m going to miss you.
I thought I’d been going well so far without saying it, but it’s the cold harsh truth, I’m going to miss you, every little part of you, from your irritating voice right down to your scarily hairy legs.
But I just can’t keep holding on to something that doesn’t belong to me anymore.
Even though it’ll be hard, I’m sure we’ll both be okay in the long run. All we need is time and patience.
I just hope that because of what I’ve wrote in this letter you don’t confirm your belief that I don’t love you, or never have done.
Maybe now is the time to tell you that when I said I’d always love you, I meant it with all my heart. Every chamber, every valve, and all those veins, arteries and capillaries that help keep me alive. I meant it.
There’s always going to be that possibility that I find someone else, but they’ll never be you, and if I had to flip a coin, when it’s in the air, it’d be your name that crosses my mind.
I have no words in my vocabulary to describe how much I really fucking love you, Jack; it had always been your strongest point to tell me how you felt, and this has been my weak attempt.
I just want to wish you well in everything you do, and remind you that if you ever decide to come back, I’ll be here, waiting.
I could never say no to you, and that'll be the day I’ll ask you that question that could change our lives, even if I know you wont say yes.
I promise.
All my love,
Alex
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