the life you never lived in | bare
Title: The Life You Never Lived In
Fandom: bare: a pop opera
Rating: very light PG-13
Characters: Peter/Jason, all
Summary: Future-tense; the life Jason never let himself have.
The title comes from "The Clouds Will Drift Away" by Duncan Sheik.
The play would have finished, and everyone would take their bows. If you were paying attention to that sort of thing, you would see Jason maneuver himself next to Peter and take his hand. And if you were sitting somewhere in the first five rows, you would see Peter smile slightly at him and lift their hands. If you knew what was happening, it would have looked triumphant.
Backstage, Alan's eyes would have been accusing, and he wouldn't be the only one. There would be other glares from other people, glares that would have burned and made Jason falter, but there would be other eyes, too. Nadia's, bright blue and warm. Ivy's, hopeful for a future. Lucas's, amused as always. Sister Chantelle's, honest and accepting. Most importantly, Peter's eyes would be turned on him, crinkled with a smile.
It wouldn't have been so bad, really. For every glare sent his way, there would be a smile he could look to instead. The people who mattered wouldn't even have blinked. Things wouldn't change much at all, not that there would have been time to with only three days of school left. Graduation day would have arrived along with his parents.
His dad wouldn't have acknowledged him; only speaking and looking at Nadia. She would have made a joke about finally getting some attention that neither of them would have found funny. He wouldn't have really been surprised at his parents, but it still would have stung. Jason would have taken a moment, hands grasping a Notre Dame hat in his room, to let everything get to him.
Peter would have been there, in their boxed-up, messy room, his arm gently wrapped around Jason's waist.
"It's gonna be okay," he would have said, hand closing over Jason's. His lips would have found their way to Jason's cheek. Jason would have leaned into him and breathed.
"My dad," the beginning would have been, "He's not, like, refusing to pay for college anymore. Just. I think him not saying anything to me, or even looking at me...I think that's worse." His voice would sound broken, and Peter would have felt helpless.
Peter would squeeze him closer. "He'll come around."
(And he would have, it just would have taken time. A lot of time.)
Graduation would have been an end to tension and anxiety, and he would have delivered his speech entirely to Peter, who would have been trying to make him laugh the whole time. They would have been grinning together as they threw up their caps. Claire would have awkwardly congratulated the both of them, looking between them nervously.
The plane ride home would have seemed a million years long to Jason. His parents would still have looked determinedly away from him, their brows knitted together. Nadia would have fallen asleep with her head against his shoulder, and he would have found it to be a small comfort.
Four hours into Peter's car ride back to Delaware, his phone would have sung a song from High School Musical at him. "Hey, Jase," he would have greeted, thankful for something other than silence in the car. Nearly two hours later, he would have asked Claire if Jason could come over during the summer, hand held across the mouth piece of the phone. She would have hesitated and he would have assured her that they wouldn't do anything, and she would have nearly fainted because all she was thinking of was if she could move all of the boxes in the guest room to the basement.
Jason would have arrived at Peter's doorstep on July 4th, just in time to watch the fireworks. Claire would have been about to bring them lemonade when she saw them sitting together on the back porch, faces turned towards the sky. Peter's head resting on Jason's shoulder would be the catalyst; making Jason's hand slip over his and Jason's lips brush against his forehead. Many summers would have been spent like that, on the grass, just the two of them together.
Jason would have been ready to ignore Ivy forever but Peter wouldn't have let him. He would have called her, Peter sitting next to him and contemplating how Ivy could do this. Ivy would have answered the phone near tears, and they would have sat there for hours talking with her, convincing her to have the baby, to wait and breathe instead of overthinking.
"It's a baby!" she would have yelled from miles away. "You can't overthink a baby!" She would have wanted Jason there with her, would have wanted him to marry her, but she wouldn't have been able to say that. She would have been really goddamn angry at him, but she'd heard that stress isn't good for babies, so she would have tried to relax. Her mother would have smiled sadly but would have been a shoulder to cry on and lean on for support. The McConnells would have given her money because money would be and always has been a band-aid for them.
Somehow, they would have all made a bizarre, disjointed family. Ivy would have been mom and dad and uncle and aunt and scared little girl all at the same time. Nadia would have always been at the ready. Jason and Peter would have been in school, college dorm rooms not unlike high school dorm rooms. The walls would have been a different color, but it still would have felt like home. The whole situation would feel far away from Jason, like he wasn't really a part of it, because those ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes weren't his, not even a little bit. Ivy would have glowed, unconditional love lighting her eyes.
They would have been there for each other.
It wouldn't have been easy for Ivy, but it would have been easier, with Jason there. Jason would have thought it was pretty fucking messed up, and he would have told Peter that, one day, as he laid on the couch with a baby sleeping on his chest and his feet in Peter's lap. And Peter would have laughed carelessly, cupping on hand against Jason's cheek. "That's true."
They would have argued because they're them; they fight and get angry and pout and make up. They're cyclical. Peter would have spent nights on the couch and Jason would have had cereal without milk because Peter used all of it and happened to spill the rest. They would yell - often about Ivy, sometimes about less important things. It would have been cathartic, to shout and scream and glare. It would have been easier to understand problems yelled at the top of their lungs than problems hissed in a dark dorm room. Their kisses then would have been teeth and tongue and pure spite, fingers twisted in hair and shirts disappeared under their bed.
Other kisses would have been sweeter, gentler. They would have been walking at night in the park, in summertime finished with school and trying not to think about how hard "real life" would be. It would have been casual, how Peter squeezed Jason's hand and turned to face him.
Peter would have asked, "Will you marry me?"
And Jason would have looked at him for a long moment, seeing Peter there, in the park, right in front of him, and outside the campus bookstore, and at the hospital, sitting next to him, waiting for Ivy's baby to be born, and in Claire's tiny kitchen, arms wrapped around him, and in front of his parents at graduation, and with his hands holding his face before the show began senior year, and at the rave, and sweaty and breathless and holding onto him, and fourteen years old and awkwardly standing in front of him, eyes wide, and across the room that would become theirs, hanging up a Red Sox poster.
Instead of saying "yes", he would have said, "I love you."
Their wedding bands would have meant friendship necklaces, two halves of a heart with "Best Friends" written in curly script across them. Jason would have sent an invitation to his parents more out of defiance than anything else, but he still would have been disappointed when they didn't show up, because he would have been expecting a miracle. They wouldn't have honeymooned on an island or anywhere, really; money would have been tight, as always, and their apartment in the city would have been fine. Jason would have lit candles in their bedroom and Peter would have laughed the next morning when he found the half-melted remains of a birthday candle in a pool of wax.
"Classy," he would have said against Jason's bare shoulder.
Jason would have smacked him.
Jason's daughter would have known him. Christmas would have been for presents at Ivy and Matt's house and a little girl spinning around in circles, playing princess. He would have been sick with guilt those Christmases, watching Ivy's life like it was a movie, guilty that his daughter looked so much like him; same blue eyes, same dark blonde hair, same nose. His daughter would have always known him as her father, but Matt would have been daddy and Jason would have been fine with that. She would have skipped up to him and asked him to dance, and Jason would have obliged politely, twirling her around and letting a smile slip onto his face, the same warm smile that his daughter was wearing.
It would have been different than they'd whispered about in St. Cecilia's years before. In their daydreams, their life would be easy, just as soon as they got out of school. In actuality, it would have been easier, but never easy. Prejudice would have reared its ugly head despite the fact that they were together, that they were in love, that they weren't hurting anyone else. In the ninth grade English classroom Jason would have taught in, "faggot" would have bounced off the walls like a light-hearted tune. The kids wouldn't have known any better, but Jason would have quickly silenced them. And they would have listened.
"Hey. Intolerance gets you nowhere," Jason would have admonished, voice subtly angry. "Didn't we just read Romeo and Juliet? Say it again and you're going to the principal's office."
Beth O'Neill would have lagged behind after class, wringing her hands and biting her lip. Jason would have been her favorite teacher, the teacher that just seemed to get everyone and everyone loved. It wouldn't have been unusual that Beth stayed after class, but her usual bright smile would have been gone. She would have tapped him on the shoulder and spilled her soul to him because she knew - she just knew - that he would never judge her. "I think I like girls," she would have whispered. "I mean, I know. I know I like girls. I just...don't know what to do."
Jason would have stared at her with his mouth open for a moment, and then he would have said, "Relax, Beth", and she would have given him a watery smile.
"I'm just scared."
"I was too," he would have reassured. "But it gets better, I promise."
Beth would have looked at him closely. "You're...?"
"Gay?" he would have supplied, wry smile coloring his tone. "It helps if you say it."
They would have talked until Beth had to go and catch the late bus, about friends and love and crushes and fear. Jason would have become the person for Beth to talk to, the person that she would come to at lunch. He would have loved being that person for someone.
He wouldn't have told her what he was like at fifteen. She wouldn't have needed to know.
Jason would have gone home to Peter that evening and told him he loved him. Peter would have looked at him with a smile across his face, curving familiarly, and he would have pressed his lips against Jason's cheek. It would have been fairy-tale love spun from late nights and baseball games and unexpected kisses, love like millions of stars against the sky.
Fandom: bare: a pop opera
Rating: very light PG-13
Characters: Peter/Jason, all
Summary: Future-tense; the life Jason never let himself have.
The title comes from "The Clouds Will Drift Away" by Duncan Sheik.
The play would have finished, and everyone would take their bows. If you were paying attention to that sort of thing, you would see Jason maneuver himself next to Peter and take his hand. And if you were sitting somewhere in the first five rows, you would see Peter smile slightly at him and lift their hands. If you knew what was happening, it would have looked triumphant.
Backstage, Alan's eyes would have been accusing, and he wouldn't be the only one. There would be other glares from other people, glares that would have burned and made Jason falter, but there would be other eyes, too. Nadia's, bright blue and warm. Ivy's, hopeful for a future. Lucas's, amused as always. Sister Chantelle's, honest and accepting. Most importantly, Peter's eyes would be turned on him, crinkled with a smile.
It wouldn't have been so bad, really. For every glare sent his way, there would be a smile he could look to instead. The people who mattered wouldn't even have blinked. Things wouldn't change much at all, not that there would have been time to with only three days of school left. Graduation day would have arrived along with his parents.
His dad wouldn't have acknowledged him; only speaking and looking at Nadia. She would have made a joke about finally getting some attention that neither of them would have found funny. He wouldn't have really been surprised at his parents, but it still would have stung. Jason would have taken a moment, hands grasping a Notre Dame hat in his room, to let everything get to him.
Peter would have been there, in their boxed-up, messy room, his arm gently wrapped around Jason's waist.
"It's gonna be okay," he would have said, hand closing over Jason's. His lips would have found their way to Jason's cheek. Jason would have leaned into him and breathed.
"My dad," the beginning would have been, "He's not, like, refusing to pay for college anymore. Just. I think him not saying anything to me, or even looking at me...I think that's worse." His voice would sound broken, and Peter would have felt helpless.
Peter would squeeze him closer. "He'll come around."
(And he would have, it just would have taken time. A lot of time.)
Graduation would have been an end to tension and anxiety, and he would have delivered his speech entirely to Peter, who would have been trying to make him laugh the whole time. They would have been grinning together as they threw up their caps. Claire would have awkwardly congratulated the both of them, looking between them nervously.
The plane ride home would have seemed a million years long to Jason. His parents would still have looked determinedly away from him, their brows knitted together. Nadia would have fallen asleep with her head against his shoulder, and he would have found it to be a small comfort.
Four hours into Peter's car ride back to Delaware, his phone would have sung a song from High School Musical at him. "Hey, Jase," he would have greeted, thankful for something other than silence in the car. Nearly two hours later, he would have asked Claire if Jason could come over during the summer, hand held across the mouth piece of the phone. She would have hesitated and he would have assured her that they wouldn't do anything, and she would have nearly fainted because all she was thinking of was if she could move all of the boxes in the guest room to the basement.
Jason would have arrived at Peter's doorstep on July 4th, just in time to watch the fireworks. Claire would have been about to bring them lemonade when she saw them sitting together on the back porch, faces turned towards the sky. Peter's head resting on Jason's shoulder would be the catalyst; making Jason's hand slip over his and Jason's lips brush against his forehead. Many summers would have been spent like that, on the grass, just the two of them together.
Jason would have been ready to ignore Ivy forever but Peter wouldn't have let him. He would have called her, Peter sitting next to him and contemplating how Ivy could do this. Ivy would have answered the phone near tears, and they would have sat there for hours talking with her, convincing her to have the baby, to wait and breathe instead of overthinking.
"It's a baby!" she would have yelled from miles away. "You can't overthink a baby!" She would have wanted Jason there with her, would have wanted him to marry her, but she wouldn't have been able to say that. She would have been really goddamn angry at him, but she'd heard that stress isn't good for babies, so she would have tried to relax. Her mother would have smiled sadly but would have been a shoulder to cry on and lean on for support. The McConnells would have given her money because money would be and always has been a band-aid for them.
Somehow, they would have all made a bizarre, disjointed family. Ivy would have been mom and dad and uncle and aunt and scared little girl all at the same time. Nadia would have always been at the ready. Jason and Peter would have been in school, college dorm rooms not unlike high school dorm rooms. The walls would have been a different color, but it still would have felt like home. The whole situation would feel far away from Jason, like he wasn't really a part of it, because those ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes weren't his, not even a little bit. Ivy would have glowed, unconditional love lighting her eyes.
They would have been there for each other.
It wouldn't have been easy for Ivy, but it would have been easier, with Jason there. Jason would have thought it was pretty fucking messed up, and he would have told Peter that, one day, as he laid on the couch with a baby sleeping on his chest and his feet in Peter's lap. And Peter would have laughed carelessly, cupping on hand against Jason's cheek. "That's true."
They would have argued because they're them; they fight and get angry and pout and make up. They're cyclical. Peter would have spent nights on the couch and Jason would have had cereal without milk because Peter used all of it and happened to spill the rest. They would yell - often about Ivy, sometimes about less important things. It would have been cathartic, to shout and scream and glare. It would have been easier to understand problems yelled at the top of their lungs than problems hissed in a dark dorm room. Their kisses then would have been teeth and tongue and pure spite, fingers twisted in hair and shirts disappeared under their bed.
Other kisses would have been sweeter, gentler. They would have been walking at night in the park, in summertime finished with school and trying not to think about how hard "real life" would be. It would have been casual, how Peter squeezed Jason's hand and turned to face him.
Peter would have asked, "Will you marry me?"
And Jason would have looked at him for a long moment, seeing Peter there, in the park, right in front of him, and outside the campus bookstore, and at the hospital, sitting next to him, waiting for Ivy's baby to be born, and in Claire's tiny kitchen, arms wrapped around him, and in front of his parents at graduation, and with his hands holding his face before the show began senior year, and at the rave, and sweaty and breathless and holding onto him, and fourteen years old and awkwardly standing in front of him, eyes wide, and across the room that would become theirs, hanging up a Red Sox poster.
Instead of saying "yes", he would have said, "I love you."
Their wedding bands would have meant friendship necklaces, two halves of a heart with "Best Friends" written in curly script across them. Jason would have sent an invitation to his parents more out of defiance than anything else, but he still would have been disappointed when they didn't show up, because he would have been expecting a miracle. They wouldn't have honeymooned on an island or anywhere, really; money would have been tight, as always, and their apartment in the city would have been fine. Jason would have lit candles in their bedroom and Peter would have laughed the next morning when he found the half-melted remains of a birthday candle in a pool of wax.
"Classy," he would have said against Jason's bare shoulder.
Jason would have smacked him.
Jason's daughter would have known him. Christmas would have been for presents at Ivy and Matt's house and a little girl spinning around in circles, playing princess. He would have been sick with guilt those Christmases, watching Ivy's life like it was a movie, guilty that his daughter looked so much like him; same blue eyes, same dark blonde hair, same nose. His daughter would have always known him as her father, but Matt would have been daddy and Jason would have been fine with that. She would have skipped up to him and asked him to dance, and Jason would have obliged politely, twirling her around and letting a smile slip onto his face, the same warm smile that his daughter was wearing.
It would have been different than they'd whispered about in St. Cecilia's years before. In their daydreams, their life would be easy, just as soon as they got out of school. In actuality, it would have been easier, but never easy. Prejudice would have reared its ugly head despite the fact that they were together, that they were in love, that they weren't hurting anyone else. In the ninth grade English classroom Jason would have taught in, "faggot" would have bounced off the walls like a light-hearted tune. The kids wouldn't have known any better, but Jason would have quickly silenced them. And they would have listened.
"Hey. Intolerance gets you nowhere," Jason would have admonished, voice subtly angry. "Didn't we just read Romeo and Juliet? Say it again and you're going to the principal's office."
Beth O'Neill would have lagged behind after class, wringing her hands and biting her lip. Jason would have been her favorite teacher, the teacher that just seemed to get everyone and everyone loved. It wouldn't have been unusual that Beth stayed after class, but her usual bright smile would have been gone. She would have tapped him on the shoulder and spilled her soul to him because she knew - she just knew - that he would never judge her. "I think I like girls," she would have whispered. "I mean, I know. I know I like girls. I just...don't know what to do."
Jason would have stared at her with his mouth open for a moment, and then he would have said, "Relax, Beth", and she would have given him a watery smile.
"I'm just scared."
"I was too," he would have reassured. "But it gets better, I promise."
Beth would have looked at him closely. "You're...?"
"Gay?" he would have supplied, wry smile coloring his tone. "It helps if you say it."
They would have talked until Beth had to go and catch the late bus, about friends and love and crushes and fear. Jason would have become the person for Beth to talk to, the person that she would come to at lunch. He would have loved being that person for someone.
He wouldn't have told her what he was like at fifteen. She wouldn't have needed to know.
Jason would have gone home to Peter that evening and told him he loved him. Peter would have looked at him with a smile across his face, curving familiarly, and he would have pressed his lips against Jason's cheek. It would have been fairy-tale love spun from late nights and baseball games and unexpected kisses, love like millions of stars against the sky.