Deliverance

Disclaimer: Ann M. Martin owns these characters, not me.
Warning: mild slash

Byron wonders sometimes what it would be like if he could just tell Jeff how he really feels. He imagines the various ways that conversation would go.

'Hey, um, Jeff… I kinda like you.'

'Uh, great, By, I like you too…?' Byron just knows that Jeff would have that adorable look of confusion on his face, because he's way too clueless for his own good.

'No, I mean, I like you. Like, more than a friend.'

'Oh. Oh.' Byron imagines Jeff's eyes widening as he realises.

And, depending on how masochistic Byron happens to feel that day, he imagines Jeff backing away, Jeff shaking his head, Jeff yelling, Jeff telling him they couldn't be friends anymore, Jeff telling him he was a freak, Jeff…

Byron groans and lets himself fall face-down onto his pillow. It's hard to breathe with his nose all scrunched up and every breath that he does take heats the cloth up until it feels like he's just inhaling his own recycled breath. He ponders what it would be like if it were Jeff's breath he was breathing in and then he realises what he's doing and groans again.

He stays like that for a little while longer, but now he's got the image of Jeff leaning close enough to him for them to breathe the same air and he sits up sharply, banging his head on the bottom of the bunk bed above him. He yelps and clamps a hand to his forehead.

Byron sighs and rubs his head until it's just a dull ache that sort of feels like the one in his chest that he gets every time that Jeff looks at him, then turns away, and he has to realise, yet again, that Jeff really doesn't feel the same way he does.

He's tried to tell Jeff before, but he's never managed it. Every time he opens his mouth to say it, he realises that if he does say it, he may never see Jeff again. Well, slight exaggeration, he'll never be able to look Jeff in the face again, and Jeff will look right through him when they pass each other in the street, like a total stranger.

He's tried to write it too. He has countless half-finished letters lying in a drawer under a pile of schoolwork and other junk, where he hopes that Nicky or Adam or Jordan will never look, despite the fact that they're all in sealed envelopes, because he's just that scared.

Jeff, they all start, because he'd tried writing "Dear Jeff" and "Hey Jeff" and even "G'day Jeff", in an attempt to be funny after they'd been laughing about the Australian slang words that James still uses, but nothing seemed right, so plain ol' Jeff it was.

Jeff, says one, I don't really know how to tell you this. I'm sure you'll think I'm a complete freak if you do ever read this. That's why I'm probably never going to send this, and it's just going to become another one in a big jumble of letters that I'll never send you. I don't think I could handle it if… well, you'd stop talking to me, and I'd have to pretend we fought or something and mom would be worried and Adam and Jordan would joke about it and I really don't think I could stand that at all.

Oh man, Jeff, I don't know how to say this at all. I've never told anyone. It's only fair that I tell you first because you're my best friend and because you… well, you're part of it. You deserve to know. I just, I don't want this to change us, the best friend thing, the hanging out and the movies and…

I'm really not making much sense. I'll just, I'll miss you, is all.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, well, I like you, Jeff. I really like you. And I know you're not like that. You're not… You like girls. I know that. I do. But still, sometimes, you give me a look, or you say something and I'm suddenly thinking that it could happen and then you look at some girl and I just know that I'm going temporarily crazy. Again.

I don't want this to change what you think of me, even though I know it will, but I still want to be friends, and I hope you do too. Don't worry, I won't jump you or anything. I can restrain myself. I get it, you're not like that. You're not like me. It'd never work, we're too different, I mean, you're into health food. Yes, that's a big deal. No, don't look at me that way. (I hope that made you laugh. If it didn't, I think this friendship deal may be a lost cause.)

I just want to thank you for just being there for me, in case I don't get a chance to tell you in person. (Also, much easier to be a pussy on paper …c'mon, you're meant to laugh.) You're an amazing best friend. I really don't want to lose you, but I can let you go, if that's what you need me to do.

Byron

Byron had sealed it and put Jeff's name on it and he really was going to send it. He had even put Jeff's address, which he hadn't done for the others. It was going to be The Letter. The one he would actually put in Jeff's mailbox, or locker, or hand, and the one that he would let Jeff read. But then he put it, scared, into his drawer, under all the schoolwork.

Or he thought he had, until Jeff bursts in through the bedroom door and waves The Letter at him.

Oh God.

'What the hell is this, Byron? Is this a joke?' Jeff's voice is louder than Byron thinks he intended it to be and Byron cringes.

'I- God, I can explain, Jeff.' Byron is just stalling for time, because he knows that he can't explain, that he's already explained everything in The Letter, and, oh God, Jeff knows.

'Is this for real?' Jeff's voice is quieter now, and Byron thinks it sounds sort of sad and confused, so he doesn't look up because he really doesn't want to see the look on Jeff's face cause it's probably full of disgust or disappointment or a million other bad emotions that he never wants to see Jeff direct towards him.

'…yes.' Byron stares at the ground and the word comes out a choked whisper.

'For-' Jeff's voice cracks and Byron gets an absurd urge to smile. Jeff clears his throat and continues, 'For how long?'

'Ages, too long, I-' Byron bites his lip and stops talking.

'I di-I didn't know.' Jeff swallows loud enough for Byron to hear it. 'Just- By, can you look at me?'

Byron figures he'd probably do anything for Jeff, even now, and slowly raises his head. He focuses his eyes at around the region of Jeff's neck, because looking into Jeff's eyes and seeing the anger and the betrayal and the… Byron makes a strangled noise and drops his head again.

'I- I can't.' He whispers and feels more than hears Jeff's slight whimper.

'Is this,' Byron sees Jeff's hands flail at the space between them with his peripheral vision, 'how it's going to be now? How can we be friends if you can't even look at me?'

'You want to be friends?' Byron's so surprised that he looks up and straight into Jeff's face, which really doesn't contain the amount of hate that he had expected it to have. Possibly none, even.'Even if… even though I'm-'

'You're my best friend, Byron.' There's so much emotion in Jeff's voice and in his eyes as he says it that Byron can't even begin to process it.

The silence stretches on and on, until finally Jeff steps forward and holds out The Letter, which Byron can't stop thinking of in capitals. He looks up and Jeff's biting his lip, holding The Letter out to him. He nods slightly and takes it from Jeff's hand and their fingersbrush together accidentally. Jeff jumps back as if he's been burnt and Byron winces.

'Sorry.' Byron mutters numbly and he doesn't - can't – look up at Jeff. Jeff can't even touch him, fucking great. 'I'm sorry.'

'It's, um, it's okay.' Jeff mumbles, shaking his head. 'I, uh, should go. I'm not supposed to be long and, um, yeah. Yeah.'

Byron sighs softly and nods, not believing that for a second. 'Yeah.'

Jeff mutters something that might have been intended to be 'Goodbye.', but Byron can't really tell, and hebacks out the door. Byron can hear him run down the stairs so fast he might as well be an Olympic sprinter.

'Oh fuck.' Byron drops his head into his hands and tries not to start crying.

to be continued