I was a little late today, but that's 'cause it's my birthday today. Yay. :)

I wish I could gush to you guys about everything I write about, but then I feel that the reading experience would be spoiled. All I will say is that I enjoy this story greatly. Add a smile to that. :)

Chapter 26 — Rumors: Encounters are Merely Future Farewells

Hazel eyes slid open in the dim room, lit only by streetlights outside. Nick gazed at the empty spot beside him. His eyes narrowed, hands drawing into fists. He pushed himself off the bed, striding to the washroom to brush his teeth, to wash Joe's taste from his mouth. He turned on the shower, cursed when the water was still cold, and washed dried sweat and cum off his body. Drying quickly, he re-entered his bedroom and stared at the sheets that he knew smelled like Joe, smelled like them. He put on some clothes and then grabbed a set of linens from the closet and a pillow off the bed. In the living room, he covered the couch with the blankets and threw himself onto the cushioned seats.

Nick gazed at the card-strewn floor and reached for a random card. Bringing it up to the light, a Joker laughed at him. He snorted, flicking the card into the air and closed his eyes before he saw where it had landed.

"There's no way I'm losing sleep over that idiot," he muttered into his pillow. Inhaling deeply, he smelled Joe's shampoo. He had grabbed the wrong pillow. "Fuck." And he slept.

The morning wasn't any kinder than his fitful sleep had been. The traffic was too noisy, the people too irritating, hauling with them tired spirits that did not look forward to yet another routine day. In his rush to catch the train, his foot slipped off a step and he banged his knee against the concrete floor. No one stopped to help, to ask if he was alright. They simply moved around him, some even grunted in annoyance at having his body block the flow of traffic. They had lost two seconds of their life because of him; he may have made them late.

At school, among his friends, the spot beside him was occupied by someone else. Not by Joe. After a briefly shared kiss in the hall, Joe had disappeared for the day. The kiss had been flat, one-sided.

"If you brood anymore, Nick, you'll start to resemble Joe."

Nick sat up straight, accidentally jostling David's side, making him spill his drink on his shirt.

"Damn, Nick! That was my last clean shirt!"

Nick ducked his head, grinning guiltily. "Sorry, man."

Seeming at a loss, probably expecting huffing denial and a provocation to fight, David blinked wordlessly and then shrugged his shoulders. "It's alright. I'll just steal one of Zac's."

"Anyway," Demi sat down at Nick's other side, her fingers combing through his messy hair, always trying to tame the wildness. "What's bugging you?"

Nick dredged up a wide smile, his cheeks pulling painfully. "Nothing, Demi. Can't a guy be quiet without being asked if something was wrong?"

Demi fisted her fingers in his hair, eyes narrowing knowingly, and pulled his head toward hers so they were eye to eye. "Don't lie to me, Jones. Now tell me."

She pulled his head down further until it rested on her lap and her fingers where soothingly raking through his thick hair. He protested and tried to get up, only to have her press the side of his head against her thighs harder.

"Stay!"

He froze, surprised he had responded to her commanding tone. He surrendered, and because he knew she could be stubborn when she decided, he sagged against her and tried not to feel uncomfortable at the uncomfortable position.

"So, why the long face?" she asked cheerfully. He began to suspect that she was enjoying this too much.

"No reason," Nick answered noncommittally, succeeding an awkward shrug despite his odd position. "It's just one of those days, you know?"

She hummed, agreeing. "Yeah, I know how that is. I woke up late today and found out my favorite shirt was in the wash and then I couldn't find my lip-gloss, the cherry flavored one. You remember which one that was, right?" He nodded, encouragingly. "Yeah, anyways, I was sure I had put it in my make-up case, and..."

He listened to her prattle on about her morning, taking note of a few things. But mostly, he was thankful she could be easily distracted. He slid his eyes closed and was lulled into a half-daze. He heard the conversations around him, merging into buzzing white noise. Beside him, he felt David move closer and heard Zac join the group. Zac was a member of the student council, he felt he should ask after Joe, but several minutes passed and he had yet to even say "hello."

Demi's fingers raking through his hair felt nice. Once in a while, she would twist a lock of his hair around her fingers or massage circles against his scalp. She would have been a cool girlfriend, he thought. Someone easy to read, easy to talk to. He wondered who she liked now, if she still had a crush on Joe, or if she found someone new. Someone like Grant, who would also be easy to read and she would be able talk to him and he to her, easily.

Joe was difficult to figure out. It was like looking too far for what one sought, when all that was needed was to look beside or within. He didn't want to think about it, but the events of the night before had bothered him. It wasn't fair to be abandoned, to be left behind. It wasn't a nice feeling. It was a terrible feeling. It was like choking with no reprieve in sight—it felt empty. Like that morning's kiss.

"Maybe you should talk to him."

Nick was startled out of his semi-daze, Demi's suggestion coming back to him.

"What?"

He looked up to see Demi bent over him, blocking his light. She whispered and he smelled her bubble gum breath and her cherry flavored lip gloss. Her hair tickled his cheek and she bent lower still.

"I get worried when you get quiet," she said, smiling softly. "I get worried when he smiles and tells me everything's alright."

His eyes widened, giving it away that he was bothered, but no longer caring that she knew. He pushed himself up and off her soft, kilt-clad thighs, away from her cloying feminine fragrance. She relented her hold on him, clutching her arms to her chest as she was prone to do. He got off his seat, grabbed his bag, and almost ran to the cafeteria's exit if it wasn't for the room monitor's warning glance.

Once he was out of the cafeteria, he strode quickly to the stairs and then took the steps two at a time. He reached the student council's room and knocked on the closed door. A voice granted him entry and he slid the door open. There were desks, messy or organized, bare or cluttered... file cabinets, binders on shelves, and a lonely plant by the paper shredder. Rebecca stood by the window, sunlight highlighting her features, softening her. Jared stood by the water cooler, fetching himself a drink. He glanced at Nick curiously, asking with a raised eyebrow what he needed.

"Do you know where—" Nick paused, thinking of another place Joe might be. He shook his head, grinned, and then waved away their inquiring looks. "Ahh... Forget it. I think I know." He left them in bewilderment and trotted to the library. He looked up at the hallway clock, noting lunch period was almost over. Swinging the creaking doors to the library open, he went straight to the stairs, not even bothering to glance through the main floor.

"Joe?" Nick called, listening for a response or any tell-tale sound.

He walked into the place they often occupied, at the corner of the large room, hidden by aged books and sagging shelves. The place was empty.

He sighed and walked to the desk, hooked the leg of the chair with his foot, and slumped onto the seat. His eyebrows furrowed. The seat was warm. He growled under his breath, annoyed at being avoided.

"Asshole."

Nick crossed his arms over his chest and kicked at a nearby chair viciously—the sound thundered in the silent room—favoring the anger instead of the hurt. When the school bell chimed, indicating the end of the lunch period, he didn't move from his seat. He simmered a little more, and then dragged himself to his next class. He didn't see Joe for the rest of the day.

Later, Demi had invited him to go out with them after school because he looked like he needed to lighten up. Even Miley had threatened to drag him if she had to. He hadn't meant to flinch away from her touch or to snap at Demi when she had asked him if he had been alright. He hadn't meant to tell her to stop worrying over him like she knew what had been going on. He hadn't meant to storm off and shove Matt aside when he probably only wanted to help.

He walked up to his usual spot to wait for the train and already he knew they had noticed him. The giggling was louder today. The air seemed ripe with excitement. He couldn't help but sigh in mild frustration. It wasn't the best day to deal with a bunch of over-excited girls and their silly crush.

"Give him the letter already. Quit stalling!" one friend encouraged another.

A succession of nervous talk ensued and then more giggling. His fingers began to idly tap against his side, asking for some form of intervention. Nick hoped the train arrived soon. He was getting suspicious of the looks he was receiving from the girls. Emily, who glared at his arrival, looked like her patience was being pushed to its limits.

"Go on! Do it already. The train's coming!" the girls encouraged.

"But..." a timid voice hesitated.

"Go!"

Nick felt hope blossom when he saw the train's nose a short distant away. Its screaming slide against the tracks was music to his ears. But what he heard ooze from Emily's mouth the next moment had killed that quell of hope and left him daunted, shocked in his place.

"For fuck's sake, give it up, Ashley! He doesn't like girls! He likes guys!" Emily snapped at her friend, her voice echoing easily throughout the open station.

Time seemed to slow as his heartbeat sped up. His head snapped to the side to look at her. She grinned maliciously and gloated to whoever heard her voice.

"That's right, faggot! I saw that lube under your pillow! You think I wouldn't know? I also looked up that guy with you in the picture. He's so popular with girls, but no girlfriend. Why do you think that is? Huh?"

One of her friends gasped, more shocked by her venom than her speculation, it looked like.

"Emily! That's mean!" the appalled one gaped. The other two only laughed.

Encouraged by her friends' laughter, Emily placed her hand on her hips and continued to grin.

"Your mother would be ashamed of you, Monster. Heh, good thing she's dead, huh?"

His eyes grew wide and the train hid his startled cuss. Her friend drew away, looking disgusted. He wanted to move, to scream his pulsing throat out and smack her dirty mouth shut, but he restrained himself and got into the train as soon as the doors slid open. His rage thundered within him, his head throbbed. Nick gritted his teeth against one another, the piercing squeak loud in his head. His breath was coming in short; he could barely breathe.

He felt eyes on him. A woman left her seat when he stood in front of her. Instead of taking it, he offered it to a woman in a business suit. She slid narrow eyes at him and snidely called him a name under her breath, moving away.

What's the matter, lady? Never met a boy who fucked other boys before? He remained standing and glared across him at his reflection on the train's window.

He wasn't concerned with Emily possibly knowing about his relationship with Joe. His anger stemmed more from his lack of reaction. Disappointment left a nasty taste in his mouth. It tasted like dirt and oil, it tasted like failure. He had allowed his mother to be disrespected and had frozen, having done nothing about it. The anger festered within him as he blindly made his way home.

Nick looked out over the rails of his balcony. The moon was huge and prominent against the stark black-blue sky. Dark birds stood balanced on the wires of electric poles, their skeletal legs familiar with the unsteady lines. He imagined he saw their beady eyes gazing at him, but dismissed it as ridiculous and turned back to the lonely moon. An unfinished cup of cold ramen sat by his feet, and his book's pages were turned by the passing wind, the paper snapping against it. He looked below him. The height wasn't impressive, but he imagined it could still break a few bones. It was just a passing thought; suicide had never been one of his choices for escape. Life was too precious. Four lives were given so that he could live. But it didn't mean the thought was never there at times like these.

Wincing, he realized he'd been biting the inside of his cheek, and stopped. He had gone to bed when he arrived from school earlier, and he had just woken a couple of minutes ago to the quiet of early morning. Sleep escaped him and he had opened his books to try to finish some homework. He thought he was hungry, so he made some more ramen. Only half-way through his meal had he realized the empty feeling within him wasn't hunger.

He spoke to his parents under the light of the moon. He had heard spirits were present around this time. He didn't know if he believed that sort of talk, but he didn't bother with the details. He just felt compelled to talk, and so he did. He apologized to them, to her, for not saying anything after Emily had insulted them. He told them he was sorry he liked a guy, but at the moment that was something he couldn't change. He told them he was angry at how things were turning out, as if things were falling apart at the seams.

He reassured them that he would bring flowers the next time he visited because he had forgotten the last time and only had half a chocolate bar to offer. In the end, he'd eaten it anyway to satisfy the hunger from the walk to their grave stones.

Another passing wind raised his skin into goose-bumps and flirted with his hair. He took that as a sign that they had heard, no matter how ridiculous it had sounded when he thanked them out loud. Picking up his cup of ramen and books, he headed back inside.

Later that night as he fell into sleep again, he dreamed that Emily had been the driver of that truck and she had run them off the road. Over his parents and grandparents rotting bodies, she stood over him and teased him for bending over for a boy. And then she was falling into the train tracks and he jumped in after her.

He awoke in a rush, his dreams already flitting, becoming barely a memory when next he blinked. An ordinary crow pecked around in his balcony before getting startled into flight by a honking car below. He heard the faint buzzing of his alarm clock and searched around his bed to look for it. He found it under his bed, as well as a lovely family of dust bunnies, reminding him it had been a while since he had last cleaned.

He skipped breakfast because the queasy feeling had yet to go away, and opted for a glass of juice instead. He had woken early, so he had time to watch the news, but found it too depressing for the morning, and switched to cartoons instead. The cartoon character exuded a sarcastic and jaded nature as it belted out a series of subtle innuendos that would probably fly over the kids' heads. It was self-assured and world-wary. Just like any first grader who thought they ruled the world. He turned off the television, writing the show off as crap and muttered something about the world being doomed.

He got ready for school and left his apartment, hoping he hadn't forgotten anything, but was too lazy to go back and check. At the train station, he spied two guys sucking face behind a photo booth, their warm breaths mingling in the cool air. He looked away and denied his fascination, tapping his foot for the train to come.

In the school hallway, he brushed by someone's shoulder and apologized. The person shook his head, dismissing it as nothing, but looked at him too long. As he passed by clusters of groups, whispers tugged at him and his sight caught too many hands hiding behind their moving mouths and suspicious eyes gleaming under electric lights.

When he slid open the doors to his first class, it was disconcerting to have all conversation cease and curious pairs of eyes slide his way. He furrowed his eyebrow and bit the inside of his cheek.

"What the hell are you looking at?" he asked, glaring at the entire room. Some eyes averted him while a few bravely assessed him. Conversation started up once more, but was more subdued, withdrawn. He strode past his classmates and found his seat surrounded by his friends. Demi tugged at her hair nervously while Miley glared at a few would-be inquirers. Matt had his feet propped up on someone else's seat while Evan offered Nick some potato chips.

Nick looked into the bag at the greasy thin slices and shook his head with a "no thanks."

David chewed the eraser end of a pencil and spat pink rubber bits on the floor. Nick saw the space between Demi's eyebrows furrow in disgust. Selena poked David's shoulder with a dainty finger as if to scold.

Nick pulled his seat away from his unoccupied desk and sat down. He still felt eyes on him, but could care less.

"What the hell's going on?" He addressed his friends.

"Nick..." Selena began.

"Everyone's yakking about you and Joe," David said. "As if they have nothing else to talk about!" The last bit he turned around to yell at the entire room.

"What?" Nick asked, leaning back in his seat.

"A couple of girls heard someone accuse you yesterday at the train station. After you left, they apparently talked about it some more. So the idiotic fan club is having a hissy fit at finding out Joe was involved. Everyone else is just yakking along. I guess it wouldn't be so bad if it was someone else. But you know how popular Joe is," Matt explained.

Just as Matt finished explaining, the door slammed open to reveal five girls who Nick identified as avid fans of Joe. The unspoken leader strode quickly toward their group and began ranting as soon as Nick could smell and gag at her strong perfume.

"You stay away from Joe, you pervert! Don't you touch him! It's not true! It's not true what they say! Joe would never even look at trash like you! You don't deserve to breathe the same air as him—"

"Yeah, stay away, you monster!" three others echoed.

Miley stood noisily off her seat, long hair whipping behind her as she moved in front of the angry group.

Nick felt Selena's tentative touch on his forearm, meant to reassure. He didn't know why he needed reassurance; he was hardly bothered. They could find out about him and Joe for all he cared.

"Alright! That's enough, you idiots!" Miley screamed at the still raving girls. "Stop making fools out of yourselves! You have no say in what Joe or Nick do with their lives!" She turned to the class and with her commanding eyes, met every gaze, before grating out in a low scolding tone, "And as for the rest of you. This doesn't concern you! So shut up!"

The unspoken leader of the group squawked, insulted at Miley's treatment of her and began yet another series of ranting.

"Suck it up, Princess! Get over it!" Miley pushed the protesting group out of the class and slammed the door closed. She was about to address the class once more when Nick intervened.

"Miley, it's alright. Don't worry about it." He grinned past a frown and waved her over to take a seat.

He sagged against his chair and eyed the bright ceiling. He squinted his eyes until it was bright enough to make them water, and took a long pull of air. Shaking his head to clear it, he flashed a convincing grin to his friends and started unpacking his bag. Matt and Evan were alright with the circumstances, it seemed. He almost smiled at that.

Just as he lifted his head away from looking into his school bag, the doors slid open once more and Joe entered the room. Like a thunder clap, the room erupted into a volley of questions and talk. What was once suppressed inquiries now flew from every each end of the room and joined the tangle of noise.

Nick's heartbeat rivaled the loudness of the room. He watched at Joe's dispassionate eyes blinked away the chaos as if it was nothing. Nick saw the tight line that was the lips he had loved to kiss, the sparse wrinkles on the pressed uniform, the slight dangle of raven hair surrounding that pale face.

Perhaps, he had imagined those eyes briefly searching him out, but it was too quick to distinguish imagination from reality.

Nick felt tightness in his throat, a flutter in his stomach, and lead weighing his feet down, making him unable to reach out and call.

He held no care for Emily knowing; for the entire school knowing. He could live with the taunts and the rumors spoken behind his stiff back. He could go on being angry at being ignored and avoided...

As long as...

"Joe, is it true? You and Jones are really—"

"Joe, please say it isn't true!"

"Hey, Joe! I always thought you were—"

"Joe..."

"Joe."

"Joe!"

"No."

The noise ceased. A painful tickle went up Nick's nostrils, watering the edge of his eyes involuntarily. His mouth gaped open, not a sound escaping. Throughout his being, he felt this feeling of falling, salvation flowing futilely past his fingers. Joe's voice pulsed in his ears, slammed against him, and he heard glass breaking.

Anger rose from what died within and before he knew it, he was running toward Joe, teeth bared and eyes flashing. He shoved people away and grabbed Joe by his shirt collar, their noses touching.

"What the fuck did you say?" He imagined he could lift Joe by sheer anger alone, but he knew he wasn't that strong. He gripped at the fabric in his hands tighter, knuckles showing white under his stretched skin.

Joe's breath was even, compared to his own. His demeanor was without fault, pulsating with a silent power.

"I said 'no.' There is nothing between us, Jones."

Nick growled.

Joe wouldn't meet his eyes, staring past the side of his head to something else, but his hands drew up to grab at Nick's own shirt.

Nick felt it, before it even occurred. He felt the pull for power, before Joe used that drawn power to shove him away.

"Don't touch me," he heard faintly in his ringing ears.

Nick's back collided with the hard floor, bone banging and shaking in pain. His skin pinched with hurt, and he might have slammed the back of his head on a nearby desk before falling. He faintly heard his friends' protest and the collective gasps from others.

But the familiar sound of metal shuffling and hitting the floor was louder than all. His eyes widened as he sat up. And with great reluctance, he looked down at the well swept floor. His lungs refused to draw air, and he denied the watery quality of his sight.

His spiral pendant and its silver chain gleamed mockingly on the floor.

He didn't care for what the rest of the world thought. As long as... what they had wasn't denied, wasn't made untrue, wasn't ripped away from his hands.

Anger, fury, and something else—something too timid to yell—watched Joe turn and walk away.

Even though they had exchanged a lot of words, they still couldn't understand each other completely. He had known it from the start, but thought it would be different, and that he was wrong.

He clutched the pendant and chain in his hands.

Joe!

His scream hurt his head, but never made it past his lips.

With Love, Carlie :D

Oh, passion. You're my favorite.