(12) Beelzebub Returns

Livid with anger, Ralph's eyes swept around the room, looking for Jack. He spotted Jack hanging around the other end of the room, fighting off a crowd of guys.

"Probably his sickening fan club," he thought darkly. A now red-faced Ralph furiously began to stalk towards his victim. But just then, Ray appeared out of nowhere, barring Ralph's way.

'Get out of my way, Ray,' Ralph demanded, trying to sidestep the other teen.

'Can't do that, mate,' Ray replied, smiling.

'Oh? And why not?'

'You're upset and angry. You might do something you'll regret.'

'I won't regret this,' Ralph said confidently. 'Now get out of my way, Ray!'

But Ray firmly (and stubbornly) stood his ground.

'You will,' he responded evenly. 'Jack is a human, and humans are prone to make mistakes. You can't hold this stupid bet against him.'

'I can if it involves me!' Ralph said haughtily. Then he abruptly realized something. 'You knew about the bet,' he accused, 'and you never told me!'

Ray's face fell and his smile vanished.

'Now, don't get mad at me, Ralph,' he said, holding up his hands defensively. 'I was—'

'What do you know about the bet?' Ralph interrupted, towering over the other teen. 'All I know is that I'm Jack's next victim. Me! Me, of all people! But what else is there to know, Ray? Tell me! What else is there to know?'

Ray sighed, nervously biting his lip.

'What are you not telling me?' Ralph demanded. 'What else does this bet involve?'

Ray gave him a sheepish smile, and Ralph paled.

'No. Don't tell me you're somehow involved, too! I don't think I could deal with that right now, Ray. You're my only friend. I need you on my side.'

'I am sorry, Ralph,' Ray replied quietly.

'Oh, I see how it is,' Ralph snarled, crossing his arms over his chest. 'Everyone knows what this bet is about. Everyone but me! And I'm a fucking key player in this sick game. Just how are you involved exactly, Ray?'

Ray hesitated, then, 'Jack and I are fighting for your . . . ahem . . . affections.'

'WHAT THE FUCK! Is your brain the one that thinks for you, Ray, or is it your cock?' Ralph raked a hand through his hair in agitation. 'You have to learn to grow up. You see everything as a game, but—reality check!—life is not a game!' He sighed and added, 'And even if it was, then you just lost. You both did.'

'Please, Ralph. You're upset! Just give me a chance to explain myself. Hear me out.'

'I think I've heard enough from you,' Ralph said icily. Then he simply walked away.

Making sure he stayed well away from Ray this time, Ralph once again continued his short journey to the other side of the room, to Jack. The latter had noticed him by now and abandoned his "fans" to meet him halfway.

'What's up, Ralph?' he asked, trying to sound casual. 'Hey, you're not still bothered about that whole "Ray" thing, are you?'

'I don't know. Why don't you tell me?' Ralph said coldly.

'You're not making any sense, Ralph.'

'Just clarify this for me, Jack . . . Which "Ray" thing do you mean? The one where you just had to talk to him while we were supposed to be dancing? Or the one involving the two of you making a certain little bet?'

Jack's face blanched to a sickly green colour.

'You know about the bet?'

'I was bound to find out sometime!' Ralph exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. 'What the hell is wrong with you two, Jack! Did you even stop to think about how I might feel about all this?' He growled in frustration, then added, 'No. No, you'd never have thought of that, would you? Because you only think about yourself!'

'You know what I'm like,' Jack said miserably. 'You know me better than any of my friends; you've known me longer than they have.'

'You still think we're friends?' Ralph inquired stonily. 'Ha! Friends don't do this to each other, Merridew!'

Jack flinched slightly, but said nothing and allowed Ralph to rave on.

'I can't believe you. I can't believe you'd stake our friendship on something as stupid as this!'

'So we were friends?' Jack asked hopefully.

'I liked to think so. God knows how much you'd changed since we were stranded on that island . . . That's what I thought, anyway. But you haven't changed a bit, Merridew! You're still that selfish, conceited bastard who wanted to kill me!'

'I'm sorry,' Jack said softly, something which was rather uncharacteristic of him.

'For what? For almost killing me? For betting you can fuck me? For breaking my heart!' Ralph suddenly clapped a hand over his mouth; his eyes widened in fear of what he just said.

'What did you say?' Jack questioned.

Knowing that the other teen had heard quite clearly what he'd said, Ralph boldly squared his shoulders and asked, 'Are you sorry for breaking my heart?' Yes, his heart was broken. Though he was loath to admit it, Ralph had grown very fond of Jack over the past few days. And the fact that Jack thought him nothing more than a playing piece in his sick game made Ralph feel so . . . insignificant. He hated that feeling with a passion and, thus, his anger grew towards the other teenager . . . though he hardly realized that it was aimed more at himself.

'Your heart?' Jack whispered, as if he could only say a few words at a time. 'Ralph . . .'

Ralph agitatedly ran a hand through his hair.

'Come on, Merridew,' he said, forcefully grabbing hold of the other's upper arm. 'Let's go somewhere private to talk.' He half-led, half-dragged Jack outside to the deserted alleyway between Pubsy's and the shabby convenience store next door, much to the protests of Jack's friends, who saw them leaving.

'Hey, where are you guys going?' Fred called.

'Yeah, get back in here!' John added.

'Jack! Ralph! Get your asses in here!' Lee screamed.

But the two teens had ignored them all, not wanting to waste their time replying. It was in that same silence that the two stood opposite each other in the shadowed alley.

'Ralph,' Jack began, but Ralph abruptly cut him off.

'No, me first. Look, I care for you, Jack, I really do,' he admitted, though he knew he would probably feel like kicking himself afterwards. 'But . . . I still can't believe I meant nothing to you, nothing at all. Did you care for me at all, or did you just pay so much attention to me because I was part of your stupid bet?'

'It may have started out that way, but . . .' Jack trailed off, not knowing what to say.

'But?'

Jack sighed, then said, 'Ralph, I'm sorry for getting involved in that bet in the first place. It was just an impulsive movement! I didn't know what I was doing.'

'You're avoiding the question.'

The other teen sighed again.

'Look, I didn't know that you were the victim, Ralph. If I did, things might have ended up differently. For one, I wouldn't have even made the bet in the first place.'

'But you still would have if it was another guy?'

'Well, yeah,' Jack admitted sheepishly.

'But if that happened, I would never have gotten to know you as well as I have.'

'Probably not.'

Ralph allowed a crooked smile to grace his formerly scowling lips.

'Destiny works in ironic ways,' he said.

'Yeah,' Jack agreed absentmindedly. 'I think I'm sort of glad it's you and not just another guy, Ralph. I know what would have happened if it was. I'd flirt with him and coax him into bed. Then I'd fuck him for just one night. And that would be the end. I would not stay with him for long because I . . . I wouldn't care about him as much as I care about you.' At this, the teen's face turned a bright shade of red.

Ralph, however, did not see this. He had determinedly avoided his companion's gaze and stared instead at his feet.

'Please, Ralph, forgive me. What can I do to make it up to you?'

'Kiss me,' Ralph responded.

'What?' Jack inquired, obviously thinking he'd heard wrong.

'Kiss me!' Ralph repeated. 'I want to know if your feelings are real or if you're just making this shit up to win the bet.'

'Uh . . . Okay.' Then Jack leaned forwards to press his silky lips to Ralph's.

Ralph's response was hardly fervent. He moaned softly as Jack plunged a tongue into his mouth; he slowly stepped back to lean against the wall, in the pretense that his knees were growing weak. He made sure that he reacted just enough to fool Jack. The latter, after all, deserved it after the stunt he pulled. Although Ralph cared for his fellow student, he also wanted to hurt him. Hurt Jack just like Jack had hurt him. Ah, love. It was like a two-edged sword, whereas one both adored and loathed their infatuation.

Laughing bitterly, Ralph suddenly pushed Jack away and stepped back to survey the other teen.

'You can't fool me, Merridew. You're a good actor, but when you kiss me, I can still feel that there's something missing.'

With that said, he spun on his heel and re-entered the club (or was it pub?), leaving a very confused (and irritated) teenager in his wake.

-

"Fuck! I fucked up yet again!" Jack thought furiously. "Argh! The only way I can sleep with Ralph is if I prove that I care for him, but I can't even pretend to do that because I don't care for him . . . or do I?" The teen mentally shook his head. "No. I don't care for him. I admire him, sure. I'm jealous of him even, but I don't care for him. Not really."

Jack went back into the pub and started pacing the length of the room, heedless of all the weird stares he was getting because of it.

"I have to convince Ralph somehow! I have to win this bet!" Making up his mind, he began searching around for Ralph. He found the other hanging around the bar with Eddy, talking to him . . . At least, Jack hoped he was just talking to him. But then he suddenly saw Ralph pat Eddy's arm. "He's flirting!" Jack thought, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. Clenching his teeth, he stormed towards the two teens.

'What the hell is going on here?' he demanded.

'I'm just talking to my good friend here,' Ralph explained, putting great emphasis on the word "friend". 'Just go away, Merridew.'

'Not until we talk, Ralph. We have to talk!'

'No. I have nothing more to say to you. Get lost.'

'But—'

'You heard the man,' Eddy interrupted firmly. 'Get lost, Jack!'

Jack glared at Eddy for a moment.

'I wasn't talking to you.' Then he settled his best pleading look on Ralph. 'Please, Ralph,' he begged.

'No, Jack,' Ralph hissed. 'I just want you to leave me alone. I want nothing more to do with you! You've hurt me for the last time.'

For some reason, those words seemed to plunge a dagger straight into Jack's heart; he found himself speechless.

Apparently realizing that Jack still had no intention of leaving, Ralph simply said, 'Come on, Eddy. Let's get out of here.'

Eddy happily followed, shooting Jack a triumphant look.

'Fuck you, Eddy,' Jack muttered under his breath. 'You may have Ralph for now, but I will steal him from you before the end. I will win that bet.'

But was the bet really worth it if his friendship with Ralph was at stake?

-

Ralph guiltily bit his lip and tried to swallow the lump forming in his throat. He hadn't meant to treat Jack so harshly, but the latter deserved it! He should be happy that he got his revenge on Jack for trying to kill him on that island. Denying the other teen the only thing he wanted was like the ultimate vengeance! But . . . why then did Ralph feel so . . . depressed?

"I can't let my feelings for Jack get into the way of all this," Ralph thought. "He's the school slut, a guy who would give his body away to anyone who wanted it. My heart shouldn't be exposed to someone who would just break it. I shouldn't feel guilty about all this. He deserved it. Jack deserved what he got."

Ralph followed Eddy to the far end of the room, well away from Jack. Then the two of them sat down at an empty table. Neither was the first to strike up a conversation, so they merely sat in silence, comforted by each other's mere presence.

'I wish I never came here,' Ralph mumbled to himself. 'I wish none of this ever happened.'

'Sorry?' Eddy inquired.

Ralph shook his head and smiled.

'Nothing. Just forget it. I was talking to myself.'

'Oh.'

"Where has tonight led me?" Ralph asked himself, continuing his train of thought. "Nowhere! Sure, I had a bit of fun, but what's a bit of fun if I lost the only friend I had at this fucking school! What's a bit of fun when I lost my very pride through no fucking fault of my own? What's a bit of fun if I lost Jack! Just . . . Argh!"

Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, for Eddy suddenly asked, 'Are you all right, Ralph?'

'Y-yeah,' Ralph stuttered. 'But . . . if it's all right with you, Eddy, I think I'd just like to go home.'

'No problem.'

And that's just what they did. Well, what Ralph did, anyway. Eddy was just the one who drove them there. Okay, I'm shutting up now.

-

That weekend was perhaps one of worse of Jack's life. Usually, he would go out with his friends or spend some time with his latest infatuation. However, this time, he just stayed at home and dwelled on his thoughts. He could hardly believe how much he had fucked up his relationship with Ralph. He was so close, but then Ralph just had to find out about the bet. What rotten luck.

'Jack! Where are you?' he heard his dad call for him drunkenly. That was one misfortune of staying at home—he had to constantly stay out of his dad's way, lest the latter was suddenly overcome by the need to beat something. By the sound of it, he seemed to be in that mood right now. He had been able to evade his father all of Saturday, but he was having doubts if he would be able to do it again.

'Jack?'

Jack did not answer, fearful of what his dad might do to him. He hoped that his father would simply think he wasn't home then.

'JACK! Get over here now!'

The teen fearfully crept into his closet and hid amongst the meager pile of clothes there. His home life was a wreck, but I hadn't always been that way. While he had been in middle school, he was Head Boy, leader of the choir, a straight-A student, and one of the most admired guys at his school. His parents were both very hard-working people with good jobs that brought in an immense amount of money. Life was good then.

And then Jack had ended up on that fucking island. His sudden disappearance made his father fall into a state of depression, which he sated with tremendous amounts of alcohol. It was a habit he couldn't quite get rid of, even after Jack's return. As such, Mr. Merridew lost his pride, his job, his sanity . . . even his son.

Mrs. Merridew, on the other hand, was still quite the same, though perhaps much busier after Jack's return. She had to work harder and longer to make up for her husband's lost expenses. She tried her best to give her son the best, but what she could provide just wasn't enough. She couldn't handle supporting a family on her own. Thus, they had to move into a smaller house, a shabbier neighbourhood . . . They had to sell the majority of their belongings and cut down on their budget. She even had to fund her husband's drinking problem, for he constantly stole money from her purse to support his habit.

Still, she insisted that Jack attended only the finest schools and obtained the best of grades. She wanted him to have a future! At first, Jack tried his best to help his mother in any way he could. And, consequently, the whole "slut" thing had started. Because of the bets he made with his friends (and, indeed, the people who paid him for his services), he was able to basically support himself and depend less on his mother. Every now and then, he would even spoil himself by buying a new CD or something.

'JACK!' his drunken father called again, cutting into his thoughts. 'JACK!'

Jack curled up into a tight ball, hoping that his dad didn't bother to check on him . . . but he did. Jack jumped in shock when his father threw open the closet door and fixed his bleary gaze upon his son.

'What the fuck is wrong with you, boy?' he demanded, grabbing the teen's arm in a bruising grip.

'Ow!' Jack cried out in pain.

'You're supposed to come when I call you!' Mr. Merridew tightened his grasp and used his other hand to land a forceful punch on Jack's cheek; his gold ring tore Jack's flesh, leaving a crimson streak in its wake.

'Stop, dad!' Jack pleaded. 'Please, stop!'

'Not until you learn your lesson.' With that said, the man threw Jack upon the hard, wooden floor and proceeded to land a few well-placed kicks just below his ribcage. 'What are you doing home, anyhow? Why aren't you out with those stupid friends of yours?'

'My . . . friends . . . aren't . . . stupid!' Jack gasped, clutching at his abdomen. The remark earned him nothing but another fierce punch on his face.

'They are stupid! Why do you waste your time with a bunch of good-for-nothing bastards? You'll never amount to nothing!'

'Having you as my father doesn't help either,' the teen said through clenched teeth.

Mr. Merridew's temper reached its peak. He furiously grabbed Jack's collar and dragged him to the front door, effectively choking the life from him.

'Let go, you bastard!' Jack screamed, struggling to kick his father.

'Get out!' Mr. Merridew commanded, easily throwing Jack's slim form from the front porch. 'I never want to see you again, boy, you understand? You are to never set foot inside this house again!'

Jack could not reply, for the fall had knocked the very breath from his chest. He wheezed loudly and painstakingly clutched at the aching wounds on his stomach.

'And don't bother running to your little friends. I know where they live. I will find you if you go to them.'

'You're such a fucking asshole!' Jack shouted suddenly, irritated by his father's drunken unreasonableness. A few drops of blood dripped from his mouth from the effort of yelling so. 'I hate you! I fucking hate you!'

In response, Jack's dad simply slammed the door shut.

'Ohh . . .' Jack groaned. 'I have to get out of here.' Knowing his father's threat to be genuine, he knew that he could never go to one of his friends' houses. That left only one person. 'Ralph . . .'