One Day (I am Gonna Grow Wings)

The pretending the morning after a big blow out stopped bothering him, eventually.
He’d learned to understand it, after all.
Or.)
A look into Jake and his terrible coping strategy.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Jake sits at the top of the steps listening. His evening ritual—becoming more and more frequent. It’s late, and he has school in the morning. Dad would be disappointed to see him up and out of his bed after he spent half-an-hour getting him into it. Three short stories and various forehead kisses. A process. But he’s nine years old. Nine year olds hardly look forward to bedtime.

That’s not why he’s currently awake, though.

He had actually been asleep. Deep into the plot of some dream he can’t even remember anymore. He just knows it’d been good.

Then the yelling started. And escalated. And he was up and out of bed within five minutes of being woken up. Light footsteps down the hall and to the top of the steps. He couldn’t hear what his parents were arguing about. He knows it’s not good, though.

Mom raises her voice and his stomach lurches. They can’t work things out when they get like this. Any communication skills they’d had before, gone. A small burning fire in the corner of the kitchen where they’re yelling.

He’d expected things to get like this. It’d been too many days of smooth sailing. They were bound to get each other riled up eventually.

Dad yells back and Jake’s forehead comes to meet his knees.

His stomach hurts and his throat burns. He doesn’t understand why they can’t talk to each other the way they used to.

The mornings after are always the same

Mom makes pancakes before heading off to work. She kisses him on the head and wishes him a good day of school and promises to help with homework when he comes home.

She won't, Jake knows that by now. She’ll stay late if she’s able to.

Dad says he loves her, she just smiles. And then she leaves.

Jake never asks about it. The arguing or the pretending everythings normal when it so clearly isn’t. At first it was off putting. He hadn’t understood any of it. The arguing had bothered him, so clearly it had to be bothering them.

But then he’d go to school.

It was eight hours of torment. Things were thrown at him, taken from him. He’d been shoved into walls more times than he could count—and he’d learned that lunch and recess were better spent hiding out in the bathroom.

And he’d go home, and Mom or Dad would ask him how his day went. And he’d hesitate.

He always thought about saying something. Especially when things were particularly bad. Especially when bruises started becoming more and more common. And harder to hide.

He never did, though.

At first he wasn’t quite sure why. It’d be so easy to tell. And then maybe it’d stop. His parents would go to the school and the school could do something. Intervene, maybe. Just anything. Maybe if he was lucky, they’d let him move schools entirely.

Then the arguing started. And he knew his parents couldn’t handle one more bad thing.

So he kept his mouth shut. It was easier to lie. To pivot to homework when he couldn’t think of any more excuses for why he never hung out with anyone, or why no one ever invited him to birthday parties even though every year he’d invited his entire class.

The pretending the morning after a big blow out stopped bothering him, eventually.

He’d learned to understand it, after all.

Jake learns the word Divorce when he’s eleven.

Milo was six and like every six year old in the world he was curious. He was also learning how to read. A lethal combo for any crumbling Marriage.

He’d snuck into Dad’s office and walked out with a single piece of paper.

“Jake?” he asked. “What does this one say?” He points to the bolded term in the corner of the paper. Twelve point New Roman Font.

Divorce.

Jake sounds it out, and Milo is satisfied. His eyes are already dragging down the rest of the page.

Later that night they sit on a couch, red ice pops turning their lips purple and sticky. A movie plays on the TV. Milo’s all into it, blue and yellow blanket wrapped around him.

Jake can hear Mom and Dad in the background. Harsh whispers right now. His hand inches over to the remote.

“What’s it mean?” Milo asks, out of the blue.

Jake turns to him, licking his lips. “What?”

“Divorce,” Milo says. “What’s it mean?”

Jake opens his mouth to answer, when Moms voice raises. There’s a bang. Someone hitting the table. Milo turns his head, and Jake turns the TV up.

“What’s happening?” he asks, “Why are they mad?”

Jake shakes his head, “Nothing. They’re fine.” Milo frowns, bottom lip sticking out slightly. He goes to stand but Jake grabs his wrist. “Hey, look—the best part is coming up,” he points at the TV.

Later he sneaks downstairs and into the Kitchen. Dishes still sit in the sink. And when he stands on his tiptoes to look out the window above it, he only sees one car in the driveway. He frowns and turns away. He grabs his tablet off the counter, and he googles what Divorce means.

He decides he’s not going to tell Milo.

“Milo!”

Milo sticks his tongue out not looking up

Jake sighs, pulling his coloring book off the table before the juice can soak into it even more. He goes to hold it over the sink, shaking off the loose juice drops. It’s pointless though, the white pages already absorbing the drink and turning a reddish-pink. “Great,” he mumbles, slapping it down on the counter.

He glances around the kitchen, looking for the rest of the books and craft supplies. Mom and Dad had pulled them out earlier, giving them something to do. But now he can’t find any of the things they’d shown them.

“I’m going to go ask for more books,” Jake says, stepping out of the kitchen. Milo doesn’t say anything. Still coloring in his own book. He can’t stay inside the lines, still just a little kid.

Which is why he still doesn’t tell Milo about what he sees in Dad’s office.

There’s a man with a fancy suit inside, talking. Mom and Dad are glancing at each other, and then back at the table between the three of them. On it, papers. The same papers with the word Divorce.

He leans against the wall, out of sight from his parents. Inside he hears snippets of their conversation with the man.

“This isn’t final,” the man says, a shuffle of papers. “You sign this and it legally dissolves your marriage, yes. But you can alway remarry. Now,” there’s a moment of silence. “Before that, we do negotiations. Mr. Sterling, you might want to hire your own personal counsel then.”

“Okay,” he hears Dad mumble. “Then what?”

The man clears his throat, more paper nosies. “Then we determine custody. Now, you’ve both expressed that you still want the other in your children's lives. This is good. We can keep them out of court, you’ll just agree to fifty-fifty custody each year. Without strict bounds, if you can keep the matter of your children civil.”

“Yes, that’s what we want.” Mom says. “I don’t want them dragged into some five-year-long custodial dispute. That wouldn’t be fair on them. They still don’t even know about…” she trails. “But… what do you mean about ‘strict bounds'?’” She asks.

“Basically,” the man says. “If Mr. Sterling would like the Kids for… say Christmas break, he can. Even if it pushes custody for the year into fifty-two-forty-eight territory. As long as you can agree to things like that the court won’t mind. Or care, frankly.”

They talk about things for a little while longer and Jake walks away. Mind still stuck on custodial dispute. Like with divorce he waits till everyone's asleep to look that one up.

This time he wishes he hadn’t.

When he eavesdrops a week later, he doesn’t hear yelling like usual.

Instead it’s hushed whispers, some sniffs. He risks going down another couple steps. Peeking into the Kitchen past the stair banister. Mom wipes her face and Dad holds her hand.

“We have to do this. For us, and for them,” he jerks his head up. Gesturing towards him and Milo’s bedrooms.

Mom nods, pulling her hand back. “I know…” she breathes. “It’s just… I don’t not love you,” she says.

“I know,” Dad says, nodding. “I’ll always love you. But… this isn’t healthy right now. And it might not be for a while.”

Mom nods again. “It’s like the lawyer said, we can always remarry.”

“Yeah,” Dad says. “Just… we need time. For now.”

The papers lay in the middle of the table. A pen on top. Dad reaches out, grabbing it and signing the bottom of the papers. His hand shakes as he does.

Mom stares a bit longer, taking more breaths. Finally she signs the papers and throws the pen back on the table. She crosses her hands and brings them to her mouth. “It’s done.”

Dad nods, and that’s when Jake climbs back up to his bedroom. And despite what he knows just happened, he smiles.

Maybe, things can be better. Like they said.

Jake doesn’t really know how they got here. Any of them.

The hospital-smell makes his nose burn and stomach twist. In the background he can hear different beeps and rings. Milo sits next to him, legs kicking as he plays on his tablet. He doesn’t know what’s happened yet, and Mom wants him to keep it that way.

He looks up at the clock. Standard looking, like the ones in school. He’s supposed to be there right now. For once in his life he’d rather be there.

It’s Ten O’clock. He’d seen dad just under three hours ago. Three hours for things to go so horribly wrong.

Jake leans his head back against the wall, and breathes through his nose despite the stinging. If he opens his mouth he might throw up.

Car crash, they’d said. Ten car pile-up, whatever that means. He just knows Dad was in one of those ten cars and now he’s in surgery. He’d asked a doctor what that meant, surgery. He’s eleven and he should probably know. But no one had ever needed it before. And when she tells him knows why.

Things like car crashes or emergency surgeries weren’t supposed to happen to his family. They had enough bad already. And it was manageable. They were fixing it. And Mom and Dad were going to Divorce and then they wouldn’t argue anymore. Or pretend they weren’t arguing the next day. Eventually they might get back together. That late night google search said sometimes that happens. His parents could make that happen, Jake knew they could.

Divorce is for people who don’t love each other anymore. His parent’s loved each other. Too much, he sometimes thought. Divorce can be for that too, right?

Mom screams in the next room over. Her voice cracking and breaking in the same way wood splinters. Nurses at the desk down the hall don’t even flinch, let alone look up. This is their everyday reality.

Jake realizes that in some sick and twisted way, he was right. They were never going to argue again.

The funeral is small. Just immediate family. One set of grandparents. The other buried a half mile away. Attending from six feet under. So, Two sets of grandparents, Jake amends.

Mom hasn’t stopped crying since the hospital. The burial is no exception. She’s still crying, still taking heaving breaths that have to burn her chest. It’s just quiet now.

Milo still doesn’t understand. Jake had explained it at the hospital, and the night before the funeral when Mom still hadn’t left her room.

“Dad’s gone,” Jake had said. He worked hard to keep his voice level.

His own eyes itched from crying earlier that day. But then Milo had come knocking on his door asking about breakfast. It had been Two O’clock in the afternoon.

Milo had just stared at him, breathing hard. Mouth open showing his front tooth, and black space where the other one had been.

“He’s just… he’s not coming back.” Jake had said. And he couldn’t quite figure out how to explain beyond any of that. So, he pivots. “Now, we did cereal for breakfast earlier. What do you say we have cereal for dinner,” he turns around, cereal box in hand. Smiling. He knows it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He just hopes Milo doesn’t.

Now Milo watches as everyone throws dirt on a wooden box that his Dad’s sleeping in. Jake can tell it’s bothering him by the way Milo squeezes his hand tighter with each tip of the shovel. But he doesn’t ask, and Jake is glad.

Mom doesn’t do the whole shovel-dirt thing. She just stands and stares as Dad is buried.

When it’s Jake's turn he lets Milo come up with him. And he puts a little less dirt into the hole than he probably should.

It turns out having a dead dad in school doesn’t buy any sympathy for his peers. In fact, he’s almost certain things get worse when he goes back. But maybe that’s just because the world is worse without his Dad in it.

Still, he says nothing. Because even with the noticeably vacant chairs at the dining room table and dishes piling up around the house, nothing much has changed in some regards. Telling Mom about how kids have started stealing his homework before he can turn it in is just another bad thing in the ocean of bad that’s been their lives lately.

Besides, most people are just content to believe he’s failing Math because he’s grieving. He’s content to let them.

“...Jake?” His door squeaks, slowly opening. The night-lights in the hallways slowly filter in. Milo’s shadow stands in the doorway. “I miss dad.”

Jake sits up and rubs sleep he wasn’t planning to get from his eyes. “Yeah?” he asks. Because he’s not sure what else to say.

Milo nods. “I can’t sleep.”

Jake sighs, already scooching over on his bed. “Me neither, buddy.” He pats the free space, and Milo doesn’t need to be told twice, quickly shutting the door. The blanket wrapped around his drags as he walks across the room.

He lays down and Jake wraps an arm around his shoulders. Outside the street lights dim slightly and Jake catches his clock change to ‘12:00 A.M.’ on his nightstand.

“Are you sure he’s not coming back…?” Milo asks.

Jake closes his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek. “Yeah.”

Mom doesn’t make them dinner most nights anymore. Not even when she’s home. She sits in her room, coming out briefly to check on them. Her hair is frizzy and skin pale. She’s not doing well. Jake knows.

“Are you alright?” he asks one evening. Milo’s already in bed. “I can make you something to eat or-”

“I’m okay,” Mom says. She sniffs, clearing her throat. “I think it’s just allergies, you know? Dust.” She laughs, but it’s wobbly.

And Jake knows what they’re doing. It’s what they’ve always done. Pretend. Nothings wrong, everything's fine.

“Okay.” he says. Because he’s never not played along.

And because it’s always been easier to do that.

“Hey, Jake!” Dad calls, waving to him as he gets off the bus. “How was school buddy?”

Jake, five years old with stubby legs runs to Dad. His tiny backpack bounces on his back. “It was awesome!” He shouts, Laughs when Dad picks him up and rests him on his hip. “My teacher’s so nice! And I, I learn and,” he breathes and barely finishes sentences. The way all excited children do when they try to talk.

Dad laughs too, walking him up the driveway. “That’s great, I’m so glad. Mommy will be too!”

Jake nods, already squirming when they get inside. Mom sitting at the table waiting for him.

“Hey sweetheart, how was school?” She stands, crouching down to hug him when he reaches her.

“I loved it!”

Mom laughs, picking him up now. Dad joins them, winding an arm around Moms waist and planting a kiss to her cheek.

On the table, a tiny long box. Wrapped in pink and blue ribbons.

“Mommy, what's that?” he asks, pointing over her shoulder.

Dad follows his finger, eyes widening as he sees the box. “No…” he breathes.

Mom smiles, glancing down at her stomach. “Just a surprise for both of you,” she says.

And Dad kisses her again. On the lips this time.

He misses Dad.

Most days he does, but today there’s an ache in Jake's chest that lingers. Not even turning to panic when he’s tripped in the cafeteria. It’s so prominent he can’t even feel embarrassed as he leaves the room. His ears don’t even heat up.

He glances at the graveyard that afternoon as the bus brings him home. He contemplates getting off at the next stop and walking there. Visiting Dad.

He doesn’t. And he knows not to try asking Mom if he can. She’s not ready.

Jake prays that night. Not because he and his family are religious, but because maybe Dad can hear him when he does.

Writing changes things. Not by much, but it brings everything back to manageable.

He tries his hand at stories, but finds he can’t quite string all of the different points together coherently. It’s a hot mess of grammar issues and plot holes. He throws that notebook out and almost quits.

Then, for Christmas that year—the first actual one they celebrate without Dad—his mom gives him a notebook. Blue with giant music notes on the front. Small silver stars line the spine. On the inside, a picture of Dad.

“What…” he trails, looking up.

Mom smiles, dull. But she’s been smiling more and more. “Your father was… something of a writer,” she says. “He had bought that before…” She trails. The small light in her eyes flickering.

Jake nods. Milo’s too busy fiddling with his new Nintendo switch to notice the weight of the moment.

“Anyways, he’d want you to have it.”

They don’t talk about Dad for the rest of the day. And they don’t talk about how Mom spends the next two days barely leaving her room.

“You look tired,” Milo says at the table. He glances up from his plate.

Mom smiles, thin. Jake watches her throat bob slightly. “I’m alright buddy,” she reaches over to ruffle Milo’s hair. “Just a late shift at work.”

Jake hadn’t seen her come back last night.

Songs. He writes songs.

He’d loved to sing, but he never thought he’d write. And maybe adding another hobby to his list of socially rejectable interests was not smart. But the moment pen touches paper with the intention of creating sound he cannot stop. He hears the notes of the words he’s spelling and can feel what he’s creating.

Short stories had grammar issues to correct and plot holes to fill in. No one would know if he’d spelt something wrong when he was singing on stage someday. “Plot holes” in music would be praised as some form of artistic genius.

“Freak!”

His notebook’s pages are scattered across the hall floor as the final bell rings for the day. Footsteps trample over his pages leaving muddy prints and tearing them apart. No one bothers trying to step around it. And all Jake can do is watch from the side as the boys who’d done this run off into the crowd.

When the halls have finally cleared he doesn’t attempt to grab the paper shreddings. He leans back against the lockers, sliding till he sits on the floor. His fingers feel like static.

The only reason he manages to pull himself off that sticky-school-floor is because he remembers that he has to be home with Milo while his Mom works late.

“You’re late,” Milo mutters, sitting at the kitchen table. He’s playing on his switch. Underneath is what Jake assumes is math homework. He can see the scribble marks and places where the page is torn from erasing too much.

His chest tightens. “I know, I’m sorry. I was…” Jake swallows. “I was talking with a teacher about extra credit and lost track of time.”

Milo frowns. Eyes narrowing. “Really?”

“Ye-yeah, seriously,” Jake nods, setting his back down by the door. “What’s wrong bud?”

Milo shakes his head, looking back at his game. “You’re a bad liar.”

Jake sighs, sliding his shoes off and leaving them against the wall. He checks his phone for instructions about dinner. “I’m not…” he trails off. “Listen, I just lost track of the time. Honestly.”

“Mmmhmm,” Milo hums.

Jake sits across from him, arms crossed over his chest. “How’s the homework going?” He asks, desperate for a subject change. “Mom got a call about your Math last month, if you need help I can-!”

“It’s fine,” Milo cuts him off. “I’m gonna do it later. I’m playing right now.”

Jake smirks, eyebrows raised. “Mom said homework before video games,” he says.

“She’s not here. She never is.” He mutters, not looking up.

Jake almost chokes. He sits up, taking a breath. “I…” He clears his throat, taking a moment. He tries to get his stomach to stop squirming. “Well,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m here, and I say homework first.”

Milo doesn’t budge.

“Come on bud,” Jake sighs, sliding the homework out from under Milo’s arms. “I’ll help you. And… if you can finish it right now, I’ll order Pizza for dinner,” he smirks.

Milo looks up, and Jake knows he’s got him hook line and sinker. “I do the first three problems, and then pizza?”

“The first page, then Pizza, then the last page. That’s my final offer.”

Milo bites his lip, glancing from his switch to the sheet of homework in front of him. Eventually, he sighs, “Fine,” he says. Giving in.

Jake nods, already grabbing a pencil of his own. “Alright then.”

He doesn’t tell Milo that Pizza had been the dinner plan regardless.

Jake meets Daisy and she’s like a spoonful of honey in his warm, bitter, tea of a life.

She stands in front of him with his half filled notebook in her hands. Eyes wide. “But… it’s precious to you.”

And what gets him later on—staring at that very notebook on his desk—is she didn’t even really know why it was so important.

She didn’t know about his dead Dad. Or his little Brother who still didn’t grasp what being dead meant sometimes. Or his Mom who he could hear weeping every night–at least the nights she came home. Daisy didn’t know that this notebook was a collection of all those fractured pieces of his life turned into something.

But she knew it mattered to him. Knew he cared about it and fished it from the garbage. Smudges of old food on her wrists and dirt under her fingernails.

She didn’t even know him that well.

This was just the type of person she was. Kind, good. Sweet. Like honey.

“You know, I think singing is really cool!”

“Y-you do?!”

“Well, yeah! I wish I could sing. When I try I sound like a choking parrot.”

“No…”

“Oh yes. It’s just one of those things you’re born with. Jake, it’s a gift. Really.”

“...”

“Really.”

“Okay, okay.”

“What are you passionate about?”

“Oh… uh….”

“Daisy, come on! You have to tell me, it’s not fair if it’s only my secrets everyone knows.”

“Well…”

“...”

“I like dancing. Not doing the dances, but like… planning them out. I think it’s something I’d be good at if I ever got the chance.”

“That's… really cool, actually.”

“I don’t understand why,” Daisy says. She’s fiddling with her food, pushing off colored school peas around on the styrofoam tray. “How can any of them sleep at night? How do they not just feel… gross?” She’s frowning, eyebrows knit.

Jake shrugs, biting the inside of his lip. His Math homework scribbled over in sharpie sitting between them. “Some people just suck, I guess.”

“I can tell Ms. Gianelli,” She says, looking up. “She’d understand. And maybe she could-”

“No,” Jake cuts her off, shaking his head. When Daisy stares he tries his best to put on a shaky smile. “It’s not a big deal. Really. No point in getting anyone involved. Besides, what can they really do?”

As a kid he’d had fantasies of a teacher swooping in to save him. His parents sitting in the office demanding some sort of dignity for him. But he’d seen what happened to kids who’d ‘Snitched.’ There’d be lectures, and sometimes parents called. But nothing really gets done. In fact, most of the time things get worse.

Plus, they were in Middle school. Fourteen year olds don’t do well if they’re ‘tattle-tales.’

“Jake…” Daisy bites her lip. She reaches her hand out and sets it on top of his. His stomach turns. “I don’t like watching this happen everyday. You don’t deserve it.”

He knows that. “I know,” he says. And he means it. Despite the shame and the overwhelming pit growing in his stomach each day, he knows. It’s the one constant tether he has. “It’ll be fine. Next year we’re in Junior high. And after that, highschool. It’s just a few more months.”

He hopes that’s true.

Daisy doesn’t argue, but Jake knows she wants too because her brows stay pinched the rest of their lunch period.

“Jake, why don’t you have any friends?” Milo doesn’t even look up from his Nintendo.

Jake chokes on his water. It dribbles down his chin and all over his shirt. He barely manages to save his English homework—though he’s not sure why he bothers.

He coughs, blinking tears from his eyes and clearing his throat, “Whaght?-” He rasps. Milo doesn’t answer, and he swallows. “Milo, why do you think I don’t have friends?” He tries not to take offense. Milo’s only nine. It’s not meant to be an entirely rude question.

And at this point it’s not totally true. He has Daisy. Probably.

“Well,” Milo starts, taking a sip of his juice box. “You never have anyone over. And I always bring Stevie and Kyle here after school.” He looks up finally, his screen flashing red. He died. “And you always come right home. And you don’t do anything on Saturdays. Which is like… weird. You’re just weird.”

“Milo!”

“What?” Milo raises his hands in mock surrender. “It’s not a bad thing…maybe.”

Jake rolls his eyes, looking back down at his homework. It’s something about shakespeare. He thoroughly hates shakespeare. “I do have friends,” he finally says. “I just also… like being home, Besides, I’ve got you.” He glances up, smiling. “And you’re like, the coolest. I’d rather hang out with you than any of my friends.”

Milo looks back down at his game and tries to repress it, but Jakes sees the corners of his mouth turn up.

Jake decides even Shakespeare is preferable to wondering if he really is that weird.

“Just go away!”

“Aww look, his little girlfriend is here to protect him,” the boy’s jeer.

Jake just looks down, eyes closed. His heart hammers in his chest like a fast drum. Ba dum. Ba dum. Ba dum. He can already feel his left eye begin to swell. Feel the blood drip down his nose and into his mouth. It’s salty and metallic and it turns his stomach.

He’s afraid. Very afraid.

He’d only missed his bus. Already that’d thrown him off. He’d never done that before. Ever. He’d tried to call Mom. She didn’t answer. Then he called Milo. He figured he might be late. His stomach sank when he realized there really wasn’t anyone else to call. Not Dad, not a friend for a ride. Just his Mom and his little Brother.

He’d shaken it off and resolved to walk.

He had not expected to get jumped.

The main boy laughed, and Jake bit his tongue, looking up. “I can’t believe you need a girl to protect you, Sterling.”

“Leave, or I’m calling the police!” Daisy shouted.

She’d appeared out of nowhere. After they’d pushed him against the brick wall he was leaning on. She’d just… showed up. Jumping between him and them. Hands balled in fists at her side and head held high.

One of the boys glanced at the other. Rubbing the back of his neck. “Uhhh, Sam? Maybe we should go…” he trailed, looking back at Daisy.

“Fine,” Sam said, scoffing. “We’ll leave. We were done here anyway.” Sam looked at Jake, making eye contact. “See you in school tomorrow.”

Jake took a shuddering breath, eyes closing again. In an hour his left one wouldn’t be able to open again.

He knew they were gone when suddenly hands grabbed his shoulders, “Are you alright?!” Daisy.

Jake nodded, not sure he could keep his voice steady. His legs were shaking. Bad. He leaned back against the wall and slowly slid down it. Trying to ground himself with the cool brick. He’d cowered. He’d looked away and said nothing while they taunted him. While they beat him.

But Daisy, sweet-like-honey, gentle Daisy had jumped in no hesitation. Stared them down with Zero fear. Gotten them to leave. She looked up at him now, sitting on her shins beside him. Her hands come up to his face, grazing over cuts and bruises.

“It looks worse than it feels,” he mutters. Trying to be somewhat humorous. Daisy’s deadpan look tells him he was unsuccessful. “I am okay,” he says.

Daisy shakes her head, eyes dragging over him. “You’re not,” she whispers. “You’re not and none of this is.”

Jake takes a breath. Pushing down all the hurt and fear and pain. “No, but it’s fine. A couple more Months, remember?”

“How can you…”

Jake smiles. Empty, but he hopes she doesn’t know that. “I’m just that good.”

Summer is quick. And painless. That’s probably why it’s so quick.

He meets Daisy a few times for ice cream. She invites him to hang out with her friends, and he politely declines.

“Are you sure?” Daisy asks. “They’d like you. And then we could all hang out together in Junior high!”

Jake smiles, shaking his head. He licks ice cream off the cone as it starts to drip onto his fingers. “It’s okay,” he says. “I’m not sure if I’m… ready. You know?”

Despite his denial, Milo had been right. He’d never really had friends before. Daisy was nice. She was kind and open minded. And actually really really funny. He enjoyed it being just the two of them, even if it meant he saw her less. It was easy to be around her and feel safe.

He’s not sure it’d be the same with other people around.

“Okay,” she says, eyes flicking to her ice cream. “If you’re sure.”

Jake brings his hand to the bottom of her cone, tapping. Green Mint Chocolate Chip lands on her nose.

“Jake!” She hisses, but she’s smiling.

“Sorry, sorry!” He is decidedly not. Even when Daily enacts her revenge.

God, he loves that girl.

Wait…

“Mom, what’s wrong?” Jake asks, leaning against the front doorway.

Mom turns around, looking at him over her shoulder. Her eyes bloodshot. “O-oh, nothing. I’m okay,” She looks away, bobbing her head side to side cracking her neck. “It was just a long shift. And summer. Allergies.”

It’s always allergies.

The night before school he sets out his outfit. That same blue hoodie. He’s probably washed the thing millions of times at this point. He’s surprised it hasn’t just come apart in the washer. He’s bound to outgrow it soon.

He stares at his clothes, thrown over his desk chair. Bites the inside of his cheek and questions if he’s made the right decision. And then wonders if he’s thinking just about clothes.

That’s when he turns out his light and slides into bed. His covers are cool. He rubs his feet together, tossing and turning. He looks at his wall and watches the light’s from cars driving down his street move across his room.

Around One in the morning they stop coming. He opts to stare at the ceiling then. Counting tiny little cracks and divots. Tracing over the light peaking through his blinds from the street lamps with his eyes.

At first he simply couldn’t sleep. But eventually, when his eyes start to pull themselves shut and his body protests an all nighter, he forces himself awake.

When he was a kid he'd always thought sleep was like time travel. You close your eyes and in no time at all eight hours have passed. One moment it’s entirely dark out, silent. The next birds chirp on windowsills and the sun begins to peak past the clouds.

Tonight he doesn’t want to time travel. He doesn’t want tomorrow to come. If he stays awake he buys himself precious hours. To do what? He doesn’t know. Probably—almost certainly—nothing. He’ll only use those hours to ruminate and to work himself up.

Jakes’ only prolonging his own suffering. Mentally torturing himself. Pregaming for the inevitably hellish first day of school.

Jake doesn’t even bother trying to pretend it was fine.

Instead he looks in at the kitchen table and sees Milo on his Nintendo. He glances at the foyer and sees Mom’s work shoes gone. And then he just goes straight to his room.

The front of his sweatshirt is stained orange and brown from the day’s lunch. His arm hurts. A lot. And he’d be needing a new notebook to write in,

And that picture of Dad was gone forever.

He uses the last of his restraint to make sure he doesn’t slam his door. And then throws his back-pack onto his bed. And kicks his bedpost. And shoves everything on his desk off of it. He takes all of the comics off his bookshelf and tosses them on the floor with his desk-things.

His chest heaves and his limbs are buzzing. There’s a ringing in his ears. And his eyes are already filled with angry tears.

“Fuck!” He hisses. He hits his wall. It doesn’t leave any dents or holes.

He brings the bottoms of his palms to his eyes and presses in until all he sees is static. Like an old, vintage, TV. He grits his teeth and a low whine works its way up his throat.

Jake pushes his bag off his bed and ignores the loud crash that follows. And he sits there taking shuddering breaths. It feels like he’s breathing through a coffee filter. He closes his eyes and those angry tears slip down his cheeks while his hands rub his knees and thighs.

He opens his eyes again. Closing them hadn’t done anything.

He looks to the side, at his metal bed frame. Vision unfocused. He’s really looking through everything because all of his energy and ability to feel is focused on the building pressure in his chest and head.

He feels like he’s about to explode.

That’s when he brings his forearm up to his mouth. He feels his trembling lips and hot breaths. The vibrations from the sob that rips out of him. He presses his arm into his own face so hard his gums and teeth ache.

An hour later he goes downstairs to help Milo with his Math homework. Moms not home yet so he makes dinner too. Laughing at the occasional dumb joke Milo tells.

He doesn’t ask about the loud noise.

Mom doesn’t come home that night again. But she still leaves them breakfast to heat up in the Morning.

Jake first meets Drew in English class. Seventh Period.

They’d known of each other’s existence. In theory, at least. But they hadn’t actually interacted until mid-February. A partner project. Randomly assigned partners.

Jake had almost vomited when the teacher had told them that particular piece of information.

“Hey,” Drew said, waving as Jake sits in the seat across from him. “Jake… Sterling, right?”

Jake blinks, nodding. He doesn't trust himself to speak right away. His hands shake in his hoodie pockets—he’d miraculously gotten the stain out after a few rounds in the washer.

“Cool,” Drew held his hand out. “Let me put my number in your phone.”

Jake blinked, “...What?”

“My number? So we can talk about the project?” He raised an eyebrow, hand still out and waiting.

Jake's ears turned red and his stomach lurched. He practically threw his phone into Drew’s hand. “Oh! Uh… so-sorry!”

“Uh… it’s fine. I guess,” he doesn’t look up, typing in his number. “There.” He hands the phone back. “We can plan times to meet and discuss our project. I’m thinking slideshow, obviously. Simple, Easy, but also effective. We can play around with it, too. Add cool effects and stuff.”

Jake nodded, staring down at his screen. Drew’s contact the fourth one in his list. Right below Daisy’s. He has to resist the urge to smile like some clueless idiot. “Yeah, the slideshow sounds fine!”

They meet three times to plan out their project. Once at the library, once at the Pizza Shop in the mall—which Drew generously pays for, and once at Drew’s house.

When he finally does go over to Drew’s, he can see why he’d been so insistent on paying for the pizza.

It’s a mansion. There’s no other way to say it. It’s not your stereotypical, lengthy, five-story castle. But it’s huge. Three stories and a spacious driveway.

“My parents won’t be home for the weekend, so if this takes a long time you’re welcome to stay the night.”

Jake blinked. “...Like a sleep over?”

“Uh-” Drew’s ears go pink, his nose scrunching. “No! That’s only for girls.”

Jake snorts, shaking his head. He still hasn’t come full inside the bedroom. Just hovering at the doorway. “Alright, fine. Not a sleepover.”

Drew kicks some of his old clothes under the bed, a last minute attempt to tidy up. He brushes trash off of his desk and pulls up a second chair. “You can come in, you know that right?” Drew sits, turning to him.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry!” Jake shuffles in finally, instantly feeling awkward. He’d only ever been to Daisy’s house. And even then her Mom’s had a strict no boy’s in your room policy. This is the first time he’d been to another friend's house, in someone else's room.

He sits at the desk, rifling through his backpack for his laptop. He’d spent all of last night scraping off his embarrassing computer stickers.

This thing with Drew felt like a fresh start. He didn’t want to mess it up with some stupid sticker that showed everyone just how much of a freak he was.

“Hey, is that a switch?”

Drew looks up from his computer, glancing at the corner of his desk. “Oh, yeah. My Dad gave me my own credit card for Christmas last year, so I bought it at the mall,” he smirks. “I’ve got a bunch of games on here. My friends like these dumb dating simulators, and RPGs. But I also have shooting games too.”

Jake nods, “I don’t have anything this fancy. But I’ve got an older version. How are the graphics on this one?”

“Pretty good, for what it is. You wanna…” Drew reaches across the way, grabbing the switch. “I’ve got another downstairs.”

“Hey, Jake!”

“Oh, hi!”

He doesn’t want to be mean.

It’s not an entirely conscious decision. It had started slow. Saying what people wanted to hear. In all the years of being shoved against lockers and food thrown at him, he’d found it best to just ignore everything. Not in the way teachers meant when they give their anti-bullying assemblies. Which are really just schools outright saying, “We’re not gonna do anything. So here’s what you can do,” and it’s just bad advice.

Jake ignored it because talking back—in any way— only made things worse.

But if he stayed quiet, ignored the taunts and obvious bait, he could get out slightly unscathed. If he sat there and took it just like they all wanted him too it was easier to pretend it wasn’t happening.

Saying what people wanted to hear was just another way to avoid all out catastrophe.

When Drew shoved someone, he’d laugh and call them some sort of name. If he didn’t, Drew would look at him strange with a raised eyebrow.

When Henry knocked a stack of books out of a kid's hand, Jake kicked them. Otherwise Henry just stood there awkwardly.

If Liam made some stupid joke about some girl, he’d snicker.

Any variation of cooperation made things quick and somewhat painless. No one questioned if he belonged. And people stopped shoving him against lockers and stealing his things.

It was assimilation. He stopped talking about singing and songs and started calling everyone else the freak.

Hailey is pretty and kind. She reminds him of Daisy. A lot.

It’s why a piece of him dies when Liam steals her song book. He’s all too aware of his own sitting in the small pocket of his backpack. He thinks of his original blue one, gone.

He gives her book back—not without some cringe-worthy quip that had Henry wheezing later on.

It’s a bad day. So he goes straight home and writes. And then takes that notebook, and all of his tiny ones, and tears out all their pages and throws them into the trash. And then takes it out to the street to be taken away in the morning. No going back.

Jake admires Hailey and her friends. They’re better than him.

“You know… Drew and his friends, I’m not sure they’re your type of people,” Daisy says one afternoon. They're studying the library for an English test. “They…”

“Are assholes?” Jake asks, looking up from his textbook. “Yeah, I know.”

Daisy blinks, licking her lips. “Then why, I mean, why do you hang out with them?”

Jake sighs looking over his shoulder. “Honestly,” he says, “cause it’s easier this way. They don’t treat me like crap. They’re not so bad once you get to know them.”

Daisy stares a bit longer, biting her cheek. Then, “Okay. If you say so.”

Her concern is touching, and he smiles. His stomach turning.

“...Mom?” Jake asks, leaning on the door frame.

Mom’s in her room. Eye’s red rimmed and bloodshot. Tissues crumpled and laying on the ground. The room itself hadn’t been cleaned in years.

Mom looks up, blinks and licks her lips. “Oh, hi honey. What’s up?” She asks, sniffing and wiping at her face.

Jake hesitates. It’s a break in the routine. It’s not the way they do things here. It’s not the way he does things anywhere. Everything is fine, nothing is wrong. That’s how it’s supposed to be. But…

“Are you okay?” he asks. An out.

Mom just nods, an instant strained smile. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She looks at his life line and throws it back at him.

“No reason. Do you want me to pick up some Claritin on the way home from school? Allergies are bad this time of year. Dust and stuff”

They have a talk about parents, him and Drew.

It starts when he makes an offhand comment about missing his Dad, a slip of the tongue. The anniversary was coming up, after all.

“What happened?” Drew asked, looking up from the math Homework. “If you wanna talk about it.”

Jake blinks. “Uhh,”

“You don’t have to,” Drew rushes to say. “Just… we’re friends. You can talk about stuff with me.”

He contemplates, but not for as long as he thought he would’ve. “Okay, yeah.”

So he tells Drew about the divorce-in-progress, and the argument and the soon after car crash.

“It’s been rough on my Mom, and my brother. Sometimes I’m still not sure he’s quite processed everything.”

Drew listens. Like really listens, closing the math book and setting the pen down. He’s present for this. Not like his Mom had been. And in a way his brother never could be.

“Jeez, that’s… rough. Sorry dude,” he says when the whole bitter story is done. “That really sucks.”

Jake almost laughs. “Understatement of the century,” he says instead. And then Drew does laugh.

Things taper off, natural silence filling the room. But the homework isn’t picked up again. Instead Drew sighs, licking his lips.

“I know how it feels. Kind of, I guess.”

Jake looks up, eyebrows furrowed. “What..? But, your parents-”

“Are alive, yeah,” he huffs. “But they’re not here. You know?”

Jake nods. In all the times Jake had been over, he’s never actually met Drew’s parents. The realization is off putting now.

“I… well I don’t know, I guess it’d be nice if they were home.”

Jake feels that so deeply in his bones. The longing for something you can’t have.

His Dad, his Mom, together. And his passion. He wants them the way a fish wants water. But it’s just not possible.

“Heh,” Jake chuckles, arms crossed over his chest. Drew’s kicking some freshmans notebook away from them. Taunting and name calling.

He’s in the mall with Milo, picking out some clothes for school. Milo hit a growth spurt, and it wasn’t acceptable to have him walking around with jeans that wouldn’t reach below his mid-shin. Half his shirts might as well be cropped.

Plus, Jake could use a new Jacket. The old blue sweatshirt wasn’t holding up like it used to.

Anyways, he’s in the mall, waiting outside of a store for Milo. The line for cashout had been long and he needed to make a call to Mom, so he gave Milo enough cash to pay and went outside.

That’s when he sees her.

Jake had never really gotten on with Zoey. Really he only tolerated her. She was just a specific brand of mean girl that didn’t sit right with him.

Which was maybe a bit hypocritical considering himself and Drew and the guys, but… well that’s complicated.

Zoey was nasty. And the only reason he even bothered to put up with her is because for some unknown reason Drew actually liked her. As much as you could really like your Sophomore-year-of-highschool-girlfriend. It was actually kind of sickening how his face softened whenever he talked about her. Whenever he even saw her really.

That’s why it stood out to him when he saw her sitting in the food court across the way. Holding a guy's hand and laughing. A hand that almost certainly did not belong to Drew. An older boy's hand.

There’s a lot to unpack here. But the main thing his brain focuses on is that it’s not Drew’s hand.

He glances back in the store, Milo smiling at the cashier while she bags his items.

Jake bites his lip and grabs his phone Drews contact pinned in his messages app. He stares up, Zoey and that guy… that man sitting there. It’s wrong for so many reasons. He needs to tell Drew. Or someone else? Tell someone something.

But…

He glances down at the phone again. Fingers ready to type out the message. But how to start. He starts to write, then deletes. He starts another sentence again, deletes. Back and forth until Drew starts a message of his own.

The suspense is killing me. Just send the message.

“Hey!”

Jake looks up, Milo standing there with his bag of clothes. Smiling. “Oh… hey, are you ready to go?”

“Can we stop at the video game store?” He asks, already turning to walk.

Jake looks back at the food court. Zoeys there, toying with the Man's watch. Super-not-platonically. Super-very-flirty.

He should tell Drew. But… He thinks of the soft eyes and the smiles. Some of the only times Drew really smiles with no tension is with her.

Why would Drew believe him over her?

“Jake?”

Jake nods, walking away, finally tearing his eyes away from them. “Coming.”

“Oh look, it's the music freak duo.”

“What a bunch of nerds!”

“Whatever, music freak.”

“No wonder she barely has any friends; what a cow.”

“Hey, you should join the music club! They’re looking for new talent right now. You’d be perfect!

“Oh, I don’t know about that…”

“But Jake, isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?” Daisy asks, looking up at him. Small smile. “This could be a chance.” She says.

And for just a small moment, he considers it. A sort of daydream for the future snakes its way into his head. He could… maybe…

He shuts it down. Nope. Absolutely not. He’s done with that. It’s too late.

“I would’ve loved to see you perform on stage for the competition.”

Jake flushes. His stomach turning like it almost always does with Daisy these days. And in that moment he’d do anything to see her smile. Even…

“I-I’ll join!”

“Uh, is this the music club? It just seems I’ve stumbled across the debate club instead.”

“What the heck do you want? Are you lost or something?”

The answer to this is both ‘yes, I am lost,’ and ‘Or something.’

“Actually, I came to audition.”

“Hailey, don’t tell you’re considering this?!”

“Hey, c’mon. Shouldn’t we give him a chance, Zander? He’s a great singer and he seems like he’s really passionate about singing.”

For a second his heart dips into his stomach. He grips the Microphone a little tighter. It’s fine, he reminds himself. I’m fine. This is fine. He takes a break and when he recenters himself Zander’s gone.

“Look, I don’t know what your intentions are, but I can’t deny that you’re good. I’ll let you join…”

The rest is lost to him. Blood rushes to his ears. He says something else, and meets the club.

Later he throws up and cannot believe he’s actually doing this.

The club, he reasons, is only a means to an end.

Sing, win Daisy's heart, and leave. That’s that. Yeah, there’s a lump in his throat when he thinks about singing. Yeah his eyes water in a way that he feels removed from.

But that means nothing. This is a passion he can’t have anymore. The memory of tiny shreds of paper remind him of that. Remind him he cannot go back.

This is just for Daisy. That’s it.

It feels good. Better than he’d ever admit outloud to anyone.

“Zoeys been acting really suspicious lately.”

Jake hardly hears the rest, staring off into his food. All he can think about is Zoey, in the mall. With a guy. His stomach turns.

“JAKE!”

“Huh? Oh, er, yeah! I agree! You’re totally right Drew!”

“You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said, have you?”

“Yeah, sorry… I just zoned out for a second.”

“What's wrong? You miss your freak friends or something?”

Subject change He latches onto it.

“Don’t call them that…” he trails.

“Seriously, what’s up with you these days?” Drew asks while they walk to his car.

Jake shakes his head, “No-nothing! Honest! I’ve just got a lot on my plate with Milo and school. Now the club… just a little busy lately.” He smiles.

Drew frowns, takes a deep breath, “Okay. If you’re sure.” And keeps walking.

Jake doesn’t know what that’s about.

At first, when Milo doesn’t get off the bus Jake’s not overly worried.

Maybe Mom picked him up.

When Mom sends a text letting him know that she’ll be at work late he panics.

His heart drops and he’s about to call her when the home phone rings.

“…He-hello?”

“Good afternoon, is this the Sterling residence?”

Jake swallows, glancing out the window. He holds the phone on his shoulder with his cheek, sleighing his shoes on while he talks. “This is, who are you?”

“This is Rosemeadow Middle, we have Milo Sterling in the office and we need to have a parent or guardian come in.”

Jake doesn’t groan, externally at least.

Internally his brains a dumpster fire and it’s just started raining gasoline.

He grabs his phone off the counter, leaning up against the door while he texts Drew.

Milo in trouble at school. Need a ride. Mom at work late. Please.

He gets a thumbs up emoji back with an ETA.

“Alright, this is Milo’s older brother, our Moms working late tonight, but I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

The drive there isn’t anything unusual. A little awkward, a bit tense. Jake isn’t exactly sure why, though. Or why things have been that way lately.

“So…” Drew starts as they turn into the school. “What’d he do?”

“I don’t know, they didn’t say on the phone,” Jake says, already unbuckling his seatbelt. “I guess I’ll find out.”

He walks in the front door, showing the front office ladies his student I.D.

When he gets into the actual office he immediately sees Milo. Sitting in one of the chairs with his legs tucked up to his chest and an icepack on his hand. His stomach dips.

“Milo,” Jake says, going to sit next to him. “What happened?”

Milo just looks at him, shaking his head. He doesn’t look too upset. But he’s quieter than normal, so the alarm bells are ringing in Jake’s head.

“Mr. Sterling?” The principal peeks her head out of her office door, a tight smile on her face. “Why don’t you two come on back.”

“It’s the second time this month. The first offense we let him off with a warning and a call home. This time we have to talk to his… parents. His Mom, really.” She looks him up and down. “Why isn’t she home..?”

“She’s working late tonight.”

“…oh. Right.” The principal clears her throat. “Anyways, if this happens again we’ll be forced to suspend him. We have a no tolerance policy when it comes to violence.”

“But he started it!”

“Milo.” Jake sets a hand on his shoulder. “I understand Ma’am. I’ll make sure to let my mom know.”

Jake sighs as he slides into the front seat, Milo pouting in the back. Drew glances up from his phone and between the two of them, eyebrows raised.

“Do you… wanna go grab dinner?”

And Jake mostly agrees because he doesn’t feel like cooking.

“So, what really happened?” Jake asks, pushing his soup around with his spoon, glancing up at Milo and then back into his bowl. He can see Drew staring out of the corner of his eyes.

“This kid, he’s got a brother who says he went to Middle School with you. He was talking shit about you.”

Jake’s stomach drops, his spoon slipping from his hand and falling under the soup. He doesn’t even correct the language. “…what?”

“Yeah,” Milo says. So casually. Like he hasn’t just launched Jake head first back into the worst years of his life. “Called you a freak. He doesn’t even know you!” Milo threw his hands out, sulking.

“I…” Jake trails. His mouth is dry. He takes a long sip of his water. He’s not sure what to say.

Milo looks at him now, eyebrows scrunched. “He said that his brother's friends jumped you once. Is that… true?”

Drew sits up straight, going rigid.

“That was nothing,” Jake says. Sitting on his hands. “The kids got it wrong, all of it.” He glances at his spoon-eating soup.

Milo doesn’t say anything, just picks at his quesadilla.

Jake wishes he could dive into his soup and be eaten like his spoon. Just disappear.

“Hey,” Drew says. Milo looks at him, mid quesadilla bite. “You know, your brother is the coolest person I’ve met, yeah?”

Jake’s head snaps to him at the same time Milo almost chokes on his food. “What?”

Drew doesn’t look at him. “Yeah, it’s true. There’s no way he’d let anyone ‘jump’ him.” His fingers come up to do air quotes.

Milo narrows his eyes, gauging whether to believe it or not. “Really?” He asks.

“Really.”

Milo’s inside, Mom meeting him on the front door. She waves at him and Drew and leads Milo inside, frowning.

Jake sits in the car, Milo’s to-go box in his lap. He stares down at it.

“So, is it true?” Drew asks. And Jake knew it was only a matter of time.

Jake bites his lips and tries to not to feel so much like a fish in space. “Yeah,” he says. “It was back in Middle School. I told you, people back then didn’t like me all that much.”

“You didn’t tell me they’d beat on you,” Drew says. Voice tight, when Jake glances over he sees him gripping the steering wheel. Knuckles going white.

Jake huffs, looking back at his house. “You never asked. Besides, it’s like you said. Forget about middle school, freshman year of highschool was a ‘new start.’” He says frowning. “It’s fine now.”

Drew scoffs. “Is it? Because your little brother just punched some kid in the face because of it.”

“Just lay off, okay?” He says. He doesn’t snap or yell. But he’s firm. Clear. Stop asking questions, stop pushing.

It’s silent again. And when Drew doesn’t say anything Jake sighs, opening the car door. The night air is warm and humid, tiny sweat beads already forming on his head. As he steps out of the car, Drew starts it.

“Hey,” he says before closing the door. Drew turns to him, face blank. “Thanks for… well, all of this.”

Drew does something like a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He just nods and pulls away, leaving Jake on the curb outside his house.

“You’ve definitely been more on key lately,” Hailey says, writing something down in her notebook. “It’s almost like actually showing up to rehearsals does something,” she raises an eyebrow.

Jake rolls his eyes, smirking. “Ha, ha.”

“I’m serious, you know. You’ve definitely improved. It’s nice to… to finally see you take this seriously.”

Jake’s ears burn. He swallows, “I mean… I’m not… you know…”

“Sure,” Hailey laughs, rolling her eyes. “Whatever you say.”

It’s both alarming and comforting that she doesn’t believe a word he says on the matter.

They go to the mall, he sees the guys, and he picks the club over them. It’s a weird shift in mindset. He never thought…

He shakes it off while they keep looking for Seans laptop. Even if it’s a lingering thought.

They have a talk about parents, him and Hailey.

When everyone else has gone home and he stalls for time. He doesn’t want to walk home quite yet. He doesn’t want this somewhat good day to end.

And that’s how he ends up talking about this particular subject, when they’ve run out of the good and light-hearted things to talk about.

“Honestly,” Jake mumbles. “That’s how I got into singing. My Dad loved to write, and when he died, I just…” He swallows. “It was a way to cope. To talk about what happened without burdening my Mom.”

Hailey looks at him, a small smile. But her eyes, they’re sad. “Jake…” She trails. “Sharing your grief isn’t a burden.” She bites her lip. “Especially not if it’s with your Mom.” Hailey looks down.

“No, but…” he sighs. “She was already going through a lot. I couldn’t…” He swallows. “It was just one more thing.” Like he’d always said.

Hailey shakes her head. “Jake… you’re her kid.”

That should feel so much like a slap in the face.

“When…” Hailey starts. “When my Mom died, I felt so alone. I didn’t have any friends, or siblings. It was just me and my Dad. And he made it seem like he was handling everything so well.” She huffs.

“One night though, I came downstairs for a glass of water and saw him crying on the couch. It broke my heart, so I came and comforted him. And we talked about Mom.” Hailey takes his hand

now, squeezing. “And I didn’t feel so alone anymore.”

His chest aches. His eyes sting, and he almost cries. Almost.

And he remembers the conversation he and Drew had almost a year ago. About parents. And that feeling of being understood.

Right then, he feels it tenfold. Looking into Haileys grief stricken eyes—her sad smile—he feels like he is looking at his own reflection.

“Sing with me, Hailey!”

He snaps.

He runs. Metaphorically, that is.

Drew and everyone are badgering him. Demanding answers to questions. Asking for honesty they don’t realize they don’t want.

Liam brings up Sean and Daisy. And everyone’s going at him at once.

“Is Hailey confessing your feelings for Daisy for you?”

It’s all just loud. Too much. Everything from the past few months just comes rushing up and he feels cornered. He can see this perfect world crumbling around him. Being sucked into a black hole, all his lies being stretched and ripped apart.

And maybe the world isn’t perfect, but it’s better.

He doesn’t have bruises anymore. Stains on clothes don’t have bad memories attached to them anymore.

This is his new life. And he doesn’t want to go back. Can’t.

And then—not for the first time that year—he thinks of Mom and Dad. Morning agrees, pretending.

He can keep pretending. He can say what people want to hear, and it’ll be okay.

“I joined to sing for Daisy. And that’s what I’m gonna do. Whatever they’re using me for, I’m not letting that get in my way. Heck, Hailey can’t even sing without me because of her stupid stage fright! And they probably wouldn’t stand a chance without me. They should be grateful I even joined them in the first place.”

“They should’ve known from the moment I joined that I wouldn’t be a music freak.”

He makes Hailey cry. Again. But it’s different this time. This time it cuts deeper. And he can’t help the pressure in his eyes.

The audio—his words—play over and over in his head. His stomach turns and he thinks he’s going to be sick, right on the club floor.

Then they’d really hate him. Well, more than they did now.

He doesn’t leave until the hallway lights flicker out and he’s worried he might end up locked in the building overnight.

He knew those things weren’t true, even when he said them. It was a heat of the moment desperate attempt to avoid the unavoidable. And it blew up right in his face.

He’d had countless opportunities to be honest. With his friends, and himself. This whole thing was never about Daisy, as much as he wishes he could still believe it was. This was about him—being incredibly selfish, and unable to own up to his own choices.

Jake had never meant for the club to hear those things, but that didn’t matter. He shouldn’t have said it in the first place.

They should’ve known from the moment I joined, that I’d never be a music freak.

It’s funny. It almost makes him laugh as he turns the corner into his neighborhood. The only light from the flickering street lamps. He’d been a ‘music freak’ since long before he’d ever met the club. A loser. The weirdo who hums to himself in the hallways. The loner.

Now he really was alone.

“Are you okay?” Milo asks, standing in the doorway.

Jake nods, sitting up straighter and rubbing at his face. “Yeah, I’m fine bud. What’d you need?”

“Nothing, you just…” Milo bites his lip, uncharacteristically quiet. His switch tucked under his armpit, a video game still playing on the screen. “You’re quiet today.”

Jake blinks, glancing down at his phone. No new notifications. He sighs, shaking his head. “I’m alright, just tired.” Jake smiles, “Not too tired to kick your butt at fortnite though.”

“Seriously?!” Milo cackles, already turning to run down the hall into the living room. “I always beat you. It’s not even close.”

Jake snorts, pushing off the kitchen table and walking after him. The smile he puts on hurts his cheeks. And later when he’s finally alone and in his room, it hurts more to let it fall.

“I’VE BEEN KICKED OUT OF THE MUSIC CLUB, DREW! Someone recorded me at your house talking behind their back and sent it to them!”

Maybe it was Drew himself. He’d been acting weird lately. He’d egged him on. He’d gotten him to say those things.

“Now they won’t even talk to me!”

“Well don’t look at me!”

How could he not? How could he trust a thing Drew said. “Well you’re the one who wanted me to quit in the first place! For all I know, you could’ve set me up!”

“I’m telling you I didn’t do it Jake! I don’t know anything about a recording!”

Jake rolls his eyes.

Drew says some crap about being his real friends and it’s the final straw. He doesn’t care that Jake’s clearly upset. Doesn’t care that this has happened to him. He goes too walk away. But there’s a spark in his chest that’s already caught.

“You might wanna ask your girlfriend about who she’s really spending her ‘busy weekends’ with.”

He walks away and eventually the anger dies and all that’s left is regret and emptiness. He crawls into a bathroom stall and hopes that he just sinks into the tiled ground just a little bit.

It’s all gone so wrong so quickly. The guy’s, the club. He has no one. He’s alone.

When the bell rings he tucks his feet up and under him and lets the stall door drift open slightly. He manages to muffle his sobs enough to be unheard when the teachers check the bathroom for skippers.

There’s going to be no class today. He won’t be getting the homework.

Right now there’s only the aching loneliness that starts in the chest and spreads through him. And the lingering smell of fake strawberry shortcake and weed.

Home isn’t much better. He puts on a brave face for Milo to help with homework, but the minute Mom gets home, he’s gone.

And then, “Yeah, it was me…”

It hits Jake like a bullet. Right in his gut. “...Why?” he asks, and he can’t keep the betrayal out of his voice. “I thought… you out of everyone would support me! How could you?!”

“I was angry, okay?!”

“What do you have to be angry about?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe how you keep ignoring me recently? Maybe how Hailey—and that club— takes up all of your time and attention while your old friends are just disregarded?”

No, he didn’t “I don’t- Look! I’m trying my best here!” He hadn’t meant to… “And even if that’s true, how does that warrant what you did to me?!”

And how does his past warrant what he did to them?

“It doesn't, I know that!” And that shuts him up.

“I know we’re not that close, Jake. I don’t blame you for not paying any attention to me. But still, it hurts. Watching you walk away to be with them all the time, it…”

“I just wanted to get closer to you. And then you made new friends, and it was obvious you had more in common with them. Like Hailey… She's actually nice, and talented. Things I’m not, because… I chose to become a jerk. I always thought we were the same, and you’d understand that part of me.”

They are… the same. Jake could understand.

It’s like a warped version of deja vu. The story is one he’s staunchly familiar with. And once again he feels that understanding. He realizes it’s that he feels known.

“You seriously need to work on being more honest with people. You’ll never be happy lying to yourself and everyone around you. And that’s coming from me.”

And Jake knows that she’s not wrong. In fact it’s the most honest thing’s anyone in his life has ever told him.

“Hey Lia? I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better friend to you.”

“It’s okay. Maybe if I cut down on the heavy flirting we might’ve been good friends. See you, Jake.”

Lia walks home and for the first time in years feels no weight on her chest or coiling in her stomach. There’s perfect clarity of mind. For the first time in a long time she’d done the right thing.

That night she goes home and thinks about calling Hailey, but firmly holds herself off. Soon, maybe.

Jake leans against his door. He hears Mom watching TV in the other room. Can picture a wine glass planted in her hand. He’d spent years wondering if she’d ever develop an addiction. But alcoholism wasn’t in the cards for her, as a surgeon. So she’d kept herself steady in that one regard.

Thankfully.

Milo is in the kitchen playing on his switch like he always was. Things were okay for now. A fragile, fake sense of okay.

Jake felt something curdling in his stomach and went back upstairs before it could fully develop into something.

And then promptly face-planted on his bed when it did.

Because this way of doing things was broken. This fake, cookie-cutter family act they had isn't working. His asshole facade at school wasn’t working. It never had. None of this ever had.

He couldn’t avoid this forever. He couldn’t avoid any of these small issues any more because they had already begun to flow over the metaphorical pot he’d tried to keep them trapped in. There was only one way to fix this. All of it.

“Hey everyone! This is Jake!”

“Ah… which… you already know because Daisy told you. Er… Anyway, So, uh…”

He could do this. He had too.

“Some of you may have heard the recording of me that’s been going around. Or… the rumor that I got kicked out of the Music Club. Well, it’s true. I won’t be singing in the band competition this Friday. I… said some really nasty things, and hurt my friends. I betrayed them. All because I was a coward.

Because he was scared. Because he thought if he could keep on pretending everything would go away. Like he’d been doing for years.

It had never really gone away, though.

“I let people make me feel like being part of the club, and being passionate about music made me a freak. Yet, I was the happiest I’ve ever been with them, and I finally felt like… myself. It took me this long to realize that I’d rather be called a freak than pretend to be somebody I’m not! I should’ve stood up for them. But…”

But he hadn’t. No changing that now, as much as he wishes he could in retrospect. Hindsights twenty/twenty and all. He can never take back the things he’d said and did.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t make up for any of it.

“Even though I’m not part of the club anymore, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go watch them this Friday. I might not deserve your support, but the rest of the music club does. They’ve worked their butts off for this competition. And you’d be muss out if you don’t go, because they sound goddamn amazing. I know I’m just waffling at this point. To be honest, I’m not sure how else I can convince everyone listening to go.”

“Hell, I’ll… I’ll even strip down butt naked in front of everyone if I have to!”

“I’, sorry I let you all down, but more than that, I let them down, big time. And, uh.. Hailey, Zander, Luke, Sean, Milly. If you are listening to this… I know I called you freaks, but the truth is, you guys are the coolest, most talented people I’ve met.”

Braver than him. Always braver than him. Kinder and more resilient. And starting that day. He’d strive to be that very same way.

“You brought me in and treated me like family despite me being an arrogant jerk. I was so stupid to forget that. I hope you can forgive me.”

Even though Daisy was there, there was no mistaking that he’d done this for them. And for himself. She couldn’t be his convenient excuse for this hobby of his. Still…

“Thank you! You really are an angel.”

“And, for sticking by me all these years. As a real friend. I don’t think I would’ve been able to…” he trails. “In middle school, you know?”

“Aww, Jake,” she smiles. Jake can see her eyes watering. “You know, you’ve inspired me in your own sort of way. So really, thank you too”

“Oh, what-”

He never gets a chance to ask, because Lia comes storming in. Eyes wide and hands shaking on the door handle. “Jake! You need to come now! It’s Drew and Hailey!”

He sees Hailey and Drew at the end of the hall. Sees the rest of the club walking their way. It’d be easy to turn around at this point. It’d be easy to not make any more waves than he already had with the club, or the guys.

But he’d already resolved not to do that anymore.

“Back off Drew! You have a problem with her, you have a problem with me.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“You still don’t get it, Drew. The club is what I care about! My friends!”

“What am I then?! Because ever since you joined them, it’s as if we never were! You barely have time for us anymore. You practically live in that stinking clubroom.”

“Well maybe that stinking club room is the only place I feel understood! You never supported my passion, and I knew you never would, since you love to constantly talk down the club, and tell me to leave!”

Jake should stop. He should shut up, apologize, take it back. Even if he means it. Even if part of it—the part not fueled by emotional distress and anger—is true.

But… after so, so long, it feels so good. To just say what he feels. To just… let it out.

“If you care so much about your friends, Jake, why don't you spit out the truth already?!”

“...”

He breathes. In and out, and tries to calm his heart rate. This is the first of many outs he’s been given that he might actually take. This is a chance. He can do this. It’s fine. He’ll live. He’ll be better for it. What has he got to lose at this point?

“I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna lie to you guys. The truth is… I love being a part of the music club. I know I said that I’d quit once the competition was done but, in the end, I didn’t want to. It’s-”

“It was like my second home.”

He’s incredibly homesick.

“I just wanted friends who would stand by me, and you guys did, when I had no one else. But…”

Watching Drew push and insult random kids.

Watching Henry push books from the hands of unsuspecting freshmen, and get them all riled up.

Having to listen to all of Liam’s stupid jokes…

It all comes to mind.

And then, so does Middle School. So does being the kids shoved and insulted. Having his notebooks knocked from his hands and tossed into dumpsters. Being the butt of every teenage boy’s stupid joke.

“We’d bully people who were just like me. I felt like I had to so it would never happen to me again.”

He remembers, then, that day out front of the school. When he’d stolen Haileys notebook and made her cry, and then went and threw out all of his own that day.

He’d done that, yet Hailey hadn’t been like him. She hadn’t cowered, or been afraid. She’d kept her head up high the next day, still keeping that notebook. Still writing songs and loving music. Loudly, visibly. Her ability to be herself in the face of even all that had always impressed him.

And he tries to channel some of that right now.

“But, I won’t be that weak-minded person anymore. I won’t stand for them being called freaks anymore. And… I also won’t lie to you guys anymore.”

It’s done. And in the end, it blows up in his face too. But, when Hailey follows him up to the roof, and they forgive him, it’s worth it in the end.

“You’ve been more brave today than I’ve ever been.”

It’s not true. And Jake desperately wishes she could see all of her bravery he had over the years. But—in the same way a butterfly can’t see its own wings, she’s blind.

It’s okay, though. Jake will spend everyday telling her how brave she is for the rest of his life, if that’s what it takes.

It’s that moment—when he makes that declaration in his own head—that he realizes he is head over heels in love with Hailey Austin.

Jake sighs. He looks down at his phone, swiping away notifications from the Music Club group chat. He’d forgotten how active they were—especially Milly—while they’d had him blocked. He stares at Drew's contact photo.

He remembers how excited he’d been when Drew had first put his number in. His second friend. Ever.

Now, none of his messages are going through. Apparently he just can’t win in the friends department. Out with the old, in with the new.

“Hey.”

Jake turns around, Lia’s standing behind him. He smiles, “Hey,” he says.

She walks over to him, sitting next to him on the school's front steps. Most people had already gone home. He’d stayed to help with the club.

“I…” Lia licks her lips. “I saw you and Drew arguing after the Hailey thing. Is everything…” she trails.

Jake shakes his head. “I don’t think so,” he leans his phone screen over. Letting her look at all his undelivered messages. “It’s safe to say things are over. For now, at least.

“Hey, come on,” Lia says, mouth tilting downwards. “Don’t say that. Give him time to cool off, maybe what you said really got through to him. He might just need time to process it.”

Jake sighs, turning off his phone and shoving it in his jacket pocket. “He called me a freak.”

Lia sucks in air through her teeth, eyes widening. “Oh.”

“Yup,” he says.

They sit in silence for a moment. Every few seconds another car passes by. Teachers leaving for the day. Soon, it’ll be dinner time. Then—in a few hours—the competition. It’s surreal. That all of this has happened in only a single day.

“I think me and Zoey, we’re in the same boat.” Lia says. Looking up at the sky. “She doesn’t know it yet, but…”

Jake snorts, “Good for you,” he says. And means it. “She was always a brat.”

“Yeah….” Lia nods. “But, I still think I’m gonna miss her. Weird, right?”

Jake swallows. Looking at the road as the last car leaves the school. “No, I think I get it.”

“You should go—to the competition, I mean.”

“What? Jake, I don’t think-”

“I mean it. I’d think it’d be good for you. And, it’d be nice to see you there.”

“But, I mean I really don’t think Hailey will want me there. Not after everything.”

“Maybe not. But maybe… just think about it, okay?”

“...”

“Lia?”

“Okay. I will.”

“Here,” he says, sliding the flier across the table to Mom.

Her eyes widen as she reads it, “what…” she trails.

“I didn’t say anything, because I wasn’t sure it’d work out.” Jake says, swallowing. “But, I remember when you told me about Dad. And even though I stopped I still… you know?”

Mom takes the flier in her hands—for the competition—they shake slightly. Her eyes welled up with tears. “Oh.” She said, She blinks, and sets the poster down to wipe her eyes. Jake catches her hand.

“Don’t,” he says. Softly. “It’s okay. You can cry.”

Moms bottom lip shakes. Her hand shakes in his grip. Her throat bobs and Jake knows the exact type of sting she’s feeling there. And everywhere.

“Sweetheart-!” She gasps out. Years of grief finally overflowing. Finally recognized in its entirety.

Jake breathes out, eyes closing. He lowers Moms hand down to the table. Resting there with her. When the first sob wracks her body, he squeezes. And she squeezes back.

Most children should feel weird when their parents cry. Jake only feels relief.

They aren’t pretending anymore.

Jake’s on stage and is more alive then than he’s been in years.

Singing and dancing and looking from Hailey to a cheering crowd. The music swims in his head and with each new note his busted heart is pulling itself together.

He sees Lia and smiles at her, she smiles back. He spots Daisy and his heart warms. Not love, he knows now. Not in the romantic sense anyways.

He’ll always love Daisy, because she was his first friend.

Mom and Milo are smiling and swaying to the music. And Jake can’t help the way his voice wavers ever so slightly when he realizes that—like him—Mom is also alive again tonight.

Drew, Liam, and Henry aren’t there.

It’s the last piece of the puzzle, the one that slips under the couch. You won’t find it for years and by then it’s all scratched and dusty. And the puzzle’s been thrown out anyways.

Jake isn’t sure he wants years to pass before he fixes this. It’s weighing on him. Tainting this otherwise perfect memory.

It sticks in his stomach when they win. When they take pictures with the trophy, when he introduces Mom to Hailey. When he’s in bed that night staring at the ceiling.

He rolls to his side and looks out the window. It rains, droplets streaking down his window. Criss Crossing over one another.

He glances at his computer on his desk—the one Drew gave him. That’d he’d been so willing to give away.

An idea takes shape.

“Hey,” he says, walking up to the bench.

Drew’s there, with hands in his pocket. “Hey.” He doesn't look at him.

Jake sits next to him and they both stare forward. It’s early in the morning. Foggy mist still sits in the air. The only other people around are joggers.

Jake almost hesitates. Out of habit, if anything. These confrontations were what he worked so hard to avoid. But now, the worst had happened in that aspect. And there was only one place to go from here.

“I wasn’t using you guys,” Jake says. “At least, not like how you think.”

Drew scoffs, they still don’t look at each other.

“I’m serious. I mean, yeah being friends with you guys meant I wasn’t ridiculed or teased or jumped anymore. But… that’s not the only reason why I stayed friends with you.” Jake breathed. In through his nose, inhaling the morning scent. “I did it cause I actually liked being your friend.”

“The truth is, you were right. I wasn’t hanging out with you guys as much. I was… was disregarding my friends to chase something I’d given up on.” He thinks of Lia on his porch. “I love music. I love the club, they’re my friends now. But…” he trails. Swallowing. “You were my friend too. And I should’ve made time to see you guys.”

Drew shakes his head, “why should I believe you?” He asked. “You lied to us. For years. How can I believe anything that you’re saying?” And it’s a little ironic in his mind.

But Jake looks at Drew. Finally, His eyes are bloodshot, and he has prominent bags underneath them His jaw is clenched.

“You’re right,” Jake says. “You’re right. I lied. A lot. I lied about my intentions with the club, sort of. But… that’s a different conversation. I lied about what I was doing when I ditched you guys to hang out with them. And, I lied about Zoey.”

Drew looks over to him. “I was your best friend. You knew my girlfriend was cheating and instead of telling me you used it to blackmail her. For those freaks. And then only actually told me when you wanted to hurt me. What the hell, Jake.”

Jake nods. “Yeah, I did. I just… I was so scared of losing you. All of you. Henry, Liam, Lia. I thought if I told you about Zoey you’d never believe me over her. I mean… I’m just some weirdo you made pity-friends with back in freshman year. Why would you believe me over her?”

Drew blinks, mouth dropping slightly. He leans back on the bench. The shock finally releasing the tension in his body. “Jake…” he says. “Jake, I would have believed you.”

Yeah. Of course he would’ve. Jake almost laughs.

“Well, I know that now.” He crosses his arms. “I am sorry. For not telling you—about any of it. And… I’m sorry for ditching you guys so much.”

Drew licks his lips. Taking a breath. “I just wish you had trusted me half as much as I thought I could trust you.”

It’s like a knife to the chest.

“You know why I couldn’t,” Jake says, trying to keep his voice steady. “You do know. I mean, Drew you’re an asshole. Not even just to the club. How could I know it’d be different with me?”

Drew shakes his head, “It would’ve been. It obviously would’ve been.” He frowns. “I… fuck, Jake I cared about you. A lot.” He scowls. “If you had told me about your stupid hobby it would’ve been different.”

“It’s not stupid,” Jake snaps.

Drew rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. I wouldn’t have cared.”

Jake sighs. “Why then? With the club?”

“It was never fucking music,” he scoffs. “Obviously. I just didn’t like them. Any of them. Music was just the low hanging fruit or… whatever. It was clearly a sensitive subject, for whatever reason.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m… I’m not sorry about it. I mean, I am sorry it made you not trust me.”

Jake wants to push for more. An apology. For him and the club.

But that last part is not his particular battle to fight. And right now if he keeps arguing things will only devolve into what they had in that hallway. It would be unhelpful, unproductive, and actively harmful.

So instead, he takes a breath and stands up. “We should talk more, later.” He says, turning to face Drew. “I just didn’t want to leave things the way we did the other day.”

Drew licks his lips, nodding as he looks up at Jake. “Yeah, me either.”

For now, it’s enough.

“Hey… it’s okay.” Hailey rubs his back. “We forgave you. You don’t need to explain yourself anymore.”

Jake shakes his head, taking a shuddering breath. “No, I know. I just…” He bites his lip. “I’m still sorry.”

It's been a long day of apologies.

“And we all still forgive you. That’s not going to change overnight,” Hailey smiles. “I promise.”

Jake nods. Then, “I really miss my Dad.”

Hailey nods. “It comes and goes, huh?” She says. “I miss my mom too. A lot. I wish she could’ve been at the competition.”

Jake swallows the dry lump in his throat. “I haven’t been to see him. We don’t even drive past there. We haven’t been since the funeral.”

“I’m visiting my Mom next week, for the anniversary. You could come?”

He considers the offer. He really does. It’d be nice to have someone there, for moral support. But.

“I can’t. I think…” he trails, looking into her eyes. Silver, like the moon. His heart skips. “I should do this with my Mom, and Milo.”

Hailey, smiles, nodding. “Okay. But, I would like to go with you one day. See them both.”

“Yeah, I’d really love that.” Jake smiles.

They talk. Mom and him. And they come to a sort of agreement. A plan. And it’s a start to a start.

It’s a cloudy day.

In the movies—that big scene at the very end where things seem more hopeful—it’s always a sunny day. The birds are singing, and the grass is still. The world is still, because it’s the end of the movie and things are better and that demands attention from everyone and everything.

Real life is not like the movies, though.

So while Jake walks down the cemetery path, it’s cloudy. The wind kicks up dust from the road and whips grass blades back and forth. There are no birds, and he’s pretty sure that soon it’s going to rain.

As he, Milo, and Mom approach Dads grave it seems fitting.

They stand in front of it, the headstone staring at them. Almost daunting. A year ago, it’d be enough for any of them to turn right back around and never come back. They hadn’t been ready yet.

But the fifth stage of grief is acceptance. And Jake thinks they’ve finally accepted this in its entirety.

He grabs Mom’s hand. Squeezes slightly when it shakes. She’s got tear tracks down her cheeks. She’s staring directly at the headstone.

“I know,” she starts. A shuddering breath. “I know I haven’t really been the Mom you guys deserve.”

Milo’s head snaps to her, “What? No, you-”

“It’s okay,” she interrupts, Still staring at Dad. “It’s true. I was so… unwilling to let myself feel these things. I avoided it and pretended it was fine. But… whenever I look at both of you I…” She swallows, looking at them now. “I see so much of your Dad in both of you.” She smiles, bottom lip jutting out slightly. “So it was just… hard. But…” She turns back to Dad. “It’s still hard. But I can do it. I promise, to both of you, and him,’ She tilts her head forward, “that I’ll be okay. And that I’ll really be here.”

Jake swallows the lump in his throat, nodding.

Milo looks at Dad, biting his lip. “I miss him…” he murmurs.

“I know, buddy. Me too,” Mom says. She reaches behind both of them and pulls them to her side. It’s so nice, and Jake realizes that for all he’d missed Dad, he’d missed Mom too.

There’s thunder in the distance. And for a second Jake thinks he sees lightning.

And then, the rain.

“We gotta get going kiddos,” Mom says, pulling back and stepping away, the moment somewhat broken. “We can come back this weekend when the weather’s nice.”

Milo nods, smiling.

“Jake,” Mom calls, turning around while Milo runs down the trail. “Are you coming?”

Jake nods, “I’ll be right there. Just give me a minute?”

Mom nods, and then goes to chase Milo.

It’s just him and Dad then. All alone while the rain keeps falling. With each second the rain drops grow. They color Dad’s headstone, small speckles at a time.

Jake walks up to him now. Resting a hand at the top of the headstone. He doesn’t know what to say yet. But he thinks that’s okay. This whole thing is a process. One he’s not sure is ever finished. He always thought that the first time he visited he’d had a grand speech prepared. But today he’s short on words.

So, he just, “I love you,” he says.

And for now, that’ll be enough.

Notes:

A hopeful ending from Jagged-Dust-Jacket??? In the year 2025??? Le gasp!
I have come out of brief retirement to put out a character study (oh how typical of me) in Jake. Because he’s so interesting to me and I relate with him on a spiritual level.
I really enjoyed writing this, in all seriousness. And as long and difficult as it was at points. I didn’t intend for it to take months lol. My bad. I wouldn’t be proper ao3 author if I didn’t drop of the face of the earth occasionally lol!
I do love writing these little glimpses into the characters, though. I think it helps with my analysis skills as well as my writing skills and my ability to write in character.
I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing! It was initially very messy and I definetly left a couple things out *cough max and gang* but that was intentional. They’re interesting potential characters, but they didn’t fit the narrative I was weaving here lol, so rip!
Anyways, as always with me please feel free to comment as much or as little as you want! Every comment makes my entire day, truly! They’re such big motivators, and it’s nice to feel like people have enjoyed my works so much they commented!
Have a blessed day/night, and remember to always drink water!!!

Actions

Kudos

M4C0n_bAC0N, NotAcingThisTest, itzendieboiz, Butterfly_raincloud, Starlight0387, Gender_Fuckery, meerkatceo, Carimifairy, TheCertifiedIdiot, THATFRUITYFUCK, ImVeri, Jellyfishblues0, MaxCaulfield76, simplyitzy, mametchii, Maxminions, havey_m, sillylittlevivo, Marry006y, Noka_1201, whoisthispm, sillysaya, almond_witxh, izzy_the_yachi, BonumNomen, aocreator, wuzbe, and PinkAsters as well as 16 guests left kudos on this work!

Comments

cami (Guest) Sun 13 Jul 2025 01:31AM UTC

crying, sobbing, wailing on the ground rn. OH MY GGODDD. Wish people would understand how interesting jake is cause he’s just SOO realistic!! He feels like a real person which is why i love him so much, the harmful decisions he makes and the reasons behind those. Leading up to his character development and how different he is from freshmen year 💔💔💔god i
love my son

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
1. jagged_dust_jacket Sun 27 Jul 2025 10:03PM UTC
  
  Awww! I’m so glad you enjoyed this soo much!! 🫶
  I truly do relate to Jake, and can entirely understand why he made the decisions he did. If given those same opportunities, it’s probably how I would’ve ended up in high-school. He’s just such a realistic and grounded character.
  I think people don’t quite realize that he’s as well written as he is because he’s the POV we follow through the series. There’s less work to be done to understand him as a person. With characters like Drew or Lia or even Daisy, we have to analyze the smallest things they say and even their body language to piece together possible character motivations. But with Jake we’re literally in his head sometimes. He’s easier to understand, hence the misconception that he’s not well written or complex.
  I’m glad I could do him some justice in this fic. Like I’ve said he’s near and dear too my heart. Sorry it took me so long to respond lol, and thank you thank you for the comment! They truly make my day 🫶🫶
  
  Comment Actions
PinkAsters Sun 13 Jul 2025 02:46AM UTC

wgtavthe heelll WHAT GHE HEELLLLL WHAT TEH HELLLLLL ☹️☹️😢😢😭😭😭 WAY GEH HEL. whatYHE helL. WHAT yehHELL??????? im going to put this fic intk a bottle and throw it into the ocena so osmeone else can find kt OH MUGHU YGOOOFDDFFD IM GOUB TO KILL MYSFL

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
1. jagged_dust_jacket Sun 27 Jul 2025 10:09PM UTC
  
  Lmaoooo I’m sorry for your crumbling heart, but also, goal achieved 🥅 ‼️
  I’m really glad you enjoyed this fic so much. I really enjoyed writing it, like I do a lot of my tmf fics! Rozys vast ensemble cast really gives me room too play in terms of different character study oneshots. I’ve done Lia, Jake, and played around with Drew and Zoey’s characters, and I still have way more characters too work with! So I’m really oooking forward to delving into them all! I’ve had something in the works for Daisy for a bit, and I’m getting ideas for a non au Zoey fic. Also maybe a multi chapter au?? 👀 idk man the hyper fixation is hyperfixating lol.
  Anyways, all of that being said I’m so happy you took the time to read and leave a comment lol. They truly do make my day and give me so much motivation to write more! So again, thank you! 🫶
  - (and sorry it took so long to respond lol 👀‼️)
  
  Comment Actions
conchyuri (Guest) Sun 13 Jul 2025 02:57AM UTC

1. I CANT BEGIN to explain how much i enjoyed this!!!!! Your writing is so good and i always like seeing Jake-centric fics since i also relate to Jake a lot and u did his character so much justice, dude!!!!!!
2. I personally feel like platonic Jaisy is underappreciated in the fandom, i think they're so amazing and they always warm my heart!!! I sometimes feel like people forget that Jake and Daisy are actually friends, in the sense that I feel like they just see they're relationship as Jake has a crush on Daisy, and Daisy's really nice about it but! i <3 my sillies!!!!!!! I loved their interactions in this fic!
3. I like how you did the Sterling fam dynamics in this fic, I'm ambivalent on how i think of their dynamics but they in this fic are really well-put!
4. Piggybacking of the last point, I like how everyone in this story has their faults but are ultimately sympathetic and understandable (exception for zoey but that's probs bc this is mainly from Jake's pov, and he doesn't like her much)! the characters don't just feel like characters but people I could and DO know irl!
5. Specific example, but I like how Drew's not sorry for what he did to the music club bc as interesting as I find his character, he's still a douche and in canon he most deffo wouldn't be sorry that he hurt *their* feelings, but that he hurt Jake's and I like how you conveyed that!
6. Lastly, i just found this fic really, really enjoyable....I'm a sucker for bittersweet/hopeful endings, so this was kind of my perfect fic! You're great!
- Conch

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
NotLikeTheRat (BonumNomen) Mon 14 Jul 2025 04:37PM UTC

Woaw!
The feeling of finding a fic that is seemingly written for you exactly :)))
I love Jake, and absolutely adore your characterization of him. Your writing style is also very satisfying.
Second kudos <3

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
sillysaya Wed 16 Jul 2025 05:58AM UTC

multiple tears streaming down my face at 1 in the morning🥹you’re an amazing writer this is absolutely amazing

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
allisterrre Fri 18 Jul 2025 04:38AM UTC

holy SHIT THIS IS AMAZING

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
1. jagged_dust_jacket Sun 27 Jul 2025 10:09PM UTC
  
  Thank you lol 🫶 I try my best to put out things I’d personally enjoy and think others will too. (And also fight the stigma this fandom has gained on here lol 🙏)
  
  Comment Actions
2. 1. allisterrre Wed 27 Aug 2025 08:56AM UTC
    
    genuinely miss the peak days of this fandom, this fic was AMAZING though
    
    Comment Actions
sillylittlevivo Mon 21 Jul 2025 08:11PM UTC

THANK YOU FOR THIS FIC. It’s so heartbreaking but yet manages to tell grief so realistically. i cried so much, i love this fic

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
1. jagged_dust_jacket Sun 27 Jul 2025 10:15PM UTC
  
  Awww thanks so much 🥹 I love writing meaningful pieces, and this was definitely no exception. Jake is a character I relate to heavily. And I grew up with my parents divorcing the way I wrote Jake’s parents in this (of course my dad didn’t die, thank god 🤞), so it was definetly a bit of projecting and stuff. But it’s also realistically a way I could imagine Jake growing up!
  Also grief is one of my favorite themes too write. It’s weird because I’ve never had anyone close to me die. But I find it easy to connect with in writing, if that makes sense. It’s something I’ve never found my self getting stuck with.
  I’m so glad you enjoyed this a lot! And thank you for taking the time to comment. I think I can speak for myself and a LOT of ao3 authors when I say we really do feed off of the comments and feedback. It really makes my dad and motivates me too keep writing! So thanks so much (and sorry for taking so long to respond lmao 🤞)
  
  Comment Actions
EMYlx_9 Thu 11 Sep 2025 08:12PM UTC

JAKE ANGST?? STERLING FAMILY ANGST?? THIS HAS TO BE HEAVEN🙏🏼(no but like seriously I’m crying this is the first AO3 fic that made me cry😭)

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread

Actions

Work Header