Author: CrazedHumor
Title: Getting Attached
Rated: PG-17 (swearing and fantasies to come)
Summary: (AU sorta) I've moved around my entire life and in doing so, I learned to not get attached to anyone or anything. There was only one exception. Nick POV. Niff.
A/N: Don't hate me. This chapter just answers so many things...it's so fucking long, nearly twice as three thousand words more, I think? AND I HAD TO.
Chapter 1.5: Things Change
(Jeff's POV)
I don't know how people come up with nicknames for "Jeff," but somehow it happens by just adding '-ster' or 'ie'...and I've never liked it much.
When I was fourteen I started going to Dalton Academy in Ohio. Before that, though, I lived in California and before that...well I had live in a few different places. North Carolina, Nevada, Colorado, Texas, Florida, and those are the places I actually remember living. I'm what you would call an army brat. Or, at least I was up until fifth grade. Not to sound cliché' but that was when everything changed.
Growing up had been a lot different than most families I knew. Instead of just sticking to one home with one yard where all sorts of memories were made, I moved from house to house where I can mostly remember the packing and unpacking parties me and my mom took part in. I can still hear the songs we use to sing with each other, from the Disney soundtracks of the movies we use to watch on family night to her favorite Beatles songs. Even though I didn't really get the chance to make a lot of memories during elementary school, the ones that I can remember are my favorites...and least favorites.
My father and mother were childhood friends. Well, that was kind of an exaggeration. Actually, in high school, they hated each other. Absolutely loathed each other. My father was the typical jock, tall and muscular and the star of the basketball team, and I guess he had the ego to back it up. Meanwhile, my mom was more of a bookworm. She use to tell me that she spent most of her time in the library reading and when she wasn't there, she was worked with her singing group, which I could easily be called a glee club.
So, yeah, they were on different sides of the spectrum. It wasn't until Dad got back from his time in boot camp that they even looked at each other without cringing. They had literally bumped into each other at the carnival, ran their eyes over one another, and went on their way. Days later, while dad was working a quick shift at the local market, he had asked her out like a proper gentleman and she had said yes, completely swooned by the charm he had somehow picked up while away.
Their parents were friends for years and as soon as they had heard about it, they had basically been stuck with each there, dating for nearly ten years before they got married and had me. For the longest time mom would call me their "love" child.
I try not to think what that implies.
As soon as dad was called out to "serve his country", which somehow involved traveling across the states and working from base to base, mom packed our things, me not yet old enough for my first word, and headed out east.
Whenever I try to remember anything before Florida, my head gets kind of light and the images in my head become fuzzy, though I can see snapshots of things here and there. Some of the easiest things were the Rockies and Washington...the rest were events I tried not to think about...But it wasn't until Florida that things seemed to really play out and my images turn into movies.
Even though I didn't know anything other than being an army brat, every time I moved I was forced to make new friends, call the new location a home, and once again adjust to the schedule. Things were different for kids like us. There wasn't really a steady criteria for kids in the army and everyone was at a different level of learning, no matter their age. Which is why my mother, after the first three times of moving, insisted that I started attending public school. She said that even though I would have to adjust, at least they knew I was up to speed of the rest of the kids my age. That and she wanted to make sure I knew there was life outside of the bases we stayed on.
One day the camp was holding a banquette for all the families on location. My father introduced my mother and I to another family, which later turned out to be Nick's.
When I met Nick, another kid that lived on the base and attended the same public that I did, I was ecstatic. We were into the same things, comic books, video games, movies, music, sports, and all of these things were nearly untouchable to the other kids in our situation. Whenever I had tried to talk to other children like me that didn't have much outside interaction, they would just stare at me like what I was talking about was futuristic or unheard of. The fact that I had finally found another kid that I could relate to...it was comforting that I wasn't the only odd man out and that made me stuck to his hip right from the very beginning: we were so different from everyone else but so alike each other.
It was the best family I could have become a part of. To this day I regret not thanking them more for everything they did for me, but at the time I didn't really understand just how much they were doing.
I know my mother and father loved each other. They would tell each other just how much over the morning cup of coffee they had and they would hug one another goodbye every time dad had to leave through the front door. That didn't stop them from fighting.
Families, parents, fight. I had known that since I was in first grade and one of my fellow classmate's parents got in an argument while on a school trip, where they started cursing and yelling in front of the entire group of 6 year olds and the teachers had to put them into groups. But...my parents were a little different.
At night my father would get home, almost early into the morning, and trudge to the living room where he'd find himself sinking into his armchair. Only minutes later my mom would get up from her bed, seemingly unheard by me, and make her way to him downstairs where she would find him passed out in the chair in a drunken heap.
At the time I didn't know much about what was going on. It had happened before Florida too...I hardly remember a time when it hadn't...but it wasn't until later that I found out about his alcohol problem and his tendencies toward younger women. All I knew was that every now and then, whether it was days or weeks apart between episodes, my dad would get carried away and my mom would end up crying...
She hated when I heard them. I knew it was hurting her that I knew what was going on. So one day she told me to pick some of my favorite toys out and helped me pack one of my suitcases. She tried to explain to me that it would be better for me if I stayed over at a friends house for a little while and she kept repeating over and over how much she loved me and that she would talk to me every day, but that her and dad had to work on a few things first.
I remember getting in the car completely confused as to where we were going. There weren't many people around us that we really knew. That is except for the Duvals...And when we pulled up to their house I was smiling harder than I had in the longest time. All I remember thinking was 'I'm going to be living with my bestest friend ever'. I walked up to their front door, one of my hands in my mother's and the other one occupied by my rolling luggage and stood there until Nick's mother answered. Immediately, my mother started talking to in a whisper.
If I really concentrate on it, I can almost hear the desperateness in her voice, pleading with Nick's mom to take me in so that I didn't have to be around what was happening back at our house. Soon enough Nick was called down from upstairs and I couldn't contain myself. I was practically yelling when I told him that we were going to be roommates and that I was going to be living with him, I was so excited.
I remember dropping the suitcase I was holding because Nick had hugged me so tight that I had no choice but to hug back.
After that we did everything together. There wasn't a time of the day when we had the chance to be with each other that we weren't. He would wake me up in the morning to tell me to get ready for school. We met at the same table every day at lunch, sometimes joined by other kids who cared to interact with us, though they rarely stuck around. We rode the bus back home together, talking about what kind of homework each of our teachers handed out for the day and when we got home we'd take a snack up to his room and work on it together.
Too many times I would forget that they weren't my family and that I wouldn't be able to stay there forever.
At night I would completely forget about that thought. Many nights we'd stay up, laying next to each other in his bed, and stare up at his ceiling, talking about nothing and everything. Half of the time we didn't even know what we were talking about and the other half of the time it was about our families...and our dreams. I remember when the topic of choice was about what we were going to do when we grew up. Every time we said the same thing. Nick would insist that he was going to grow up and be famous. He wasn't sure how it was going to happen at the time, he just knew that he wanted to do something big. He said that he wanted to be remembered for something. As time went on and his love for music grew, he decided that he was going to become a singer. "Everyone remembers them, Jeff," he said. I held my tongue, sometimes almost letting my thoughts slip, I'll always remember you, Nick.
Then he would turn to me, eyes wide with excitement and ask me what I wanted to do. The first time I had no idea...later on, the more I thought about what I loved, the most obvious answer became music, but that was Nick's dream and at the time I thought that if I chose the same I'd be taking it from him...so eventually I came to the realization that all I wanted to do was dance.
When I had told him this, he practically screamed. He rolled over to face me, smile planted exactly where I expected it to be and he started going on and on about the future. "That's amazing, Jeff! You know what we're gonna do? I'm gonna be a famous singer and when I become famous and make music videos and put on concerts you can come with me! You can dance with me up on stage and in my music videos and we'll see the world together! Wouldn't that be awesome?"
I did think it was awesome. I was happy that he wanted to me to stay with him and that we'd be best friends even when we were that old.
At the time, he seemed to be the only one that wanted me.
Every now and then my mother would come and pick me up from Nick's, telling me that that night I would be staying with them and that the next day I would go to school, but go back with Nick. It become routine, occasionally staying with my mom and dad while the majority of my days were spent with the Duvals.
It wasn't until one night, when one of my parent's fights got out of hand, that things turned for the worst.
It had to have been around 2:30 AM when I had woken up to the sound of screaming. The usual Where have you been? What have you been doing? Why didn't you call me? How come you're so late? turned into Which one were you with this time? What the fuck do you think you're doing? Then why the hell didn't you text me that you were going to be late? Fucking liar.
Previously I would cry myself to sleep at night through sounds of broken dishes and police sirens outside my door, I would wake up to the new day in silence. I'd take a step outside my room only to find that things had been cleaned up. They talked normally to each other. As if nothing had ever happened...
But this one time, one of the times I had gotten involved, was different. The last time...
Everything was the same, only things had gotten even more out of hand. I can still remember the fell of the pillow against either side of my head as my fingers deathly gripped it's case. My eyes were closed shut, brows together in concentration to drown out the sounds of the screams below with the Beatles lullabies mom use to sing. I was curled up in a ball, sheets in array around me...until I heard the dishes in the kitchen fall from their places on the counter where I knew they had been drying before I had gotten into bed. There was a crack, as though one of the stools had been thrown into the wall...and then there was one final thud.
I had gotten up from bed, making my way down toward the sounds, expecting to see my mom crying and my dad in his usual position of uncaring...instead, I found her on the floor in the corner of the room...her eyes here closed...as though she was sleeping...
I had walked over to her silently, my father's back toward me, and bent down to her. I remember raising my hand in uncertainty. I was so scared to touch her in case there was a chance I could hurt her. When I came in contact with her skin I slowly shook her shoulder for nearly a minute, repeating myself over and over.
"Mom...momma...momma, wake up." But she wouldn't. And I had gotten mad. And I didn't think about it when I ran up to my father, hitting him on the stomach as hard as I could, without doing almost any damage in the slightest.
My father had always been strict. He had his place and I had mine and I had stepped out of it. So, he gave me a punishment that he saw fit.
One moment his hand was in the air somewhere in front of me and the next I was against the wall, my cheek stinging and nose pulsing. I don't remember what he said, I just remember his voice booming in my ears straight to my back where every few moments his boot made contact with my skin. Usually he stopped after only a minute or two...but after a while I realized that he couldn't. I realized that he either was too drunk to realize what he was doing or he didn't care anymore...
Minutes...hours later there were military officials all around me and my mom. The on-base medical team surrounded me, eventually concluding that there was no extensive damage except for swelling and bruising. My mom was a different story. They said that she was going to be fine, but that she had to be taken to the medical building where she would be monitored for the night.
There was no where else for me to go except the only place my mom could think of.
One of my father's supervisors, a higher rank than him, took me in his vehicle and drove me to Mr. Duval's house across the camp. I didn't take my case, the majority of my clothes and things were already there, and he dropped me into Mr. Duval's lap, explaining the situation.
I wasn't sure what to do while they were talking, so I stood there with my head slightly hung, arms at my sides. My teeth bit into my lips until I knew if I pressed any harder there would be blood. Then, without even my realization, the general was gone and Nick's dad lead me up to the room I had always sought shelter in.
I realized later that his dad wasn't sure how to handle it, and that's why he thought it was best to just let me sleep tonight and do...whatever had to be done...the next day. He turned off the lights and closed the door behind him as I slipped in next to Nick.
I cried. I cried until I couldn't breath and my lungs were wheezing with need for oxygen. Over months, years, I had been dealing with my mother and father's arguments. More times than one I had gotten involved and things would settle down, but I knew this time things were going to change. I knew that this time people knew about what had happened at night and I knew things weren't going to be the same as they had been for the last six months with Nick.
I hadn't meant to flinch away from him. His hand had just happened to touch one of the more sensitive spots on my back, where the imprint of my father's boot was left, and so my body had given the immediate reaction to scurry away from the offending sensation. I felt his hand retreat behind me and instead he started talking to me.
"Jeff. Jeff, what happened?"
I didn't want to answer him. I didn't want to turn around and look at him, knowing that he would only be looking at me with pity and concern and I didn't want him seeing.
For a few minutes he had let me let it out. My thoughts would turn from worrying about my mom to feeling bad about making Nick's pillow wet beneath me. Every now and then I would reach up to clean what I could from under my eyes and nose and whenever I did I could hear Nick hold his breath in hope that I was going to talk to him.
Then he finally broke the silence. "Jeffie, I'm right here. I'm right beside you...You know you can talk to me. Y-You're my best friend...You know that, right?"
And I remember my tears stopped, if only for a minute, to bask in everything he had just stated. We had said it so many times to each other before. We had even talked about how we were going to be best friends 20 years in the future and somehow in that moment it felt like it meant more. For years I had never stayed somewhere long enough to have a best friend and when it was said to anyone else it was normally said with little meaning.
Slowly, I had turned toward him, only to see his face full of worry and concern for me, and that made me cry harder.
The next morning, before I was picked up to meet my mother at the medical building, I showed Nick what had happened the night before, facing away from him and lifting up my shirt to reveal what remained on my back.
For the next few weeks I lived in their home. I was a part of their family. More than once I caught myself calling Mr. Duval 'dad' on accident. Nick didn't notice or if he did it didn't seem to phase him. My mom came over every day or so to visit and catch up on what was happening with me. When she wasn't with me, she was working overtime at a local diner. I found out why at the end of those few weeks, when she announced that we would be moving back to the west coast where she grew up.
When she picked me up the night before we were leaving, she reassured me that we would be back in the morning to say goodbye and that we only needed to go back to the house to do a little bit of last minute packing for the early start tomorrow.
That night I had slept in a room with bare walls, all of my things either in boxes or downstairs waiting to be packed into the car. In the middle of the night I woke up, half expecting to hear some sort of screaming downstairs and instead there was complete silence. As soon as I realized this, I had turned around to make sure Nick was still covered with the sheets we shared...only to find my best friend wasn't there and I was no longer living with him.
I was more than sad at this thought and the tears I shed for once were not for my mother, but for the friend I was going to loose tomorrow.
The next morning I woke up both sad and determined.
We quickly packed our stuff in the car, shifting things so that there was just enough room for the both of us in the front. My father said his goodbyes, apologizing over and over and telling me how sorry he was while simultaneously apologizing for everything. Everything happened so fast though and the next thing I knew, I was in the car next to my mother and we were on the road.
I half panicked. I remember reaching up to my mom and asking her where we were going. My fingers curled around what little they could wrap around in desperation. She only smiled slightly, nodding ahead of us at the garage of the house I had come to know so well.
I couldn't help the look on my face if I wanted to. I was sad, there was no helping that. But, when I saw the look on Nick's face, one of complete terror and confusion and denial...I jumped out of the car and belined straight for him. I don't remember who was the one that started the hug, but I remember trying to hold on to him for as long as possible, hoping that the longer I held on, the more time I'd have to just a few more moments with the only other person in my life that understood me just as much, if not more, than myself.
That morning I had taken out a notebook that was easy to get at and asked mom what our new address was, determined to keep Nick in my life.
When we pulled away from each other and Nick had reached up to wipe at his cheek, my fingers slipped in and out of the pocket in the front of his sweater, leaving behind a threatening note.
He had abided by that note too. When we reached California, three days later, a letter was already waiting for me there.
The first few days there were full of unpacking and getting settled in our new permanent home. It felt weird knowing I wasn't going to be moving again for a while.
I got to know my family there. The only other contact I had with them previously were awkward phone calls. I didn't even know what their faces looked like aside from what came in Christmas cards. There were barbeques and picnics to welcome us "back home". I met cousins and aunts I didn't know I had and with that included awkward hugs and kisses on my cheek I didn't expect.
A few days later I was enrolled at the nearest public school. It wasn't an easy adjustment.
For the past eleven years I had been so use to being on my own, or with one or two people around that I didn't really understand the concept of groups. I didn't understand how people could be such good friends when there were so many people to keep track of.
One of the upside it had been a bigger school. The classes didn't seem any tougher or easier than previous schools and everything I was told I was about to learned had already been covered months before. However, the one thing I was really excited about were the extra curricular activities. Here, only a week or so into the first semester, fliers were handed out in bulk, advertising for students to participate in things like karate, football, and gymnastics. Not many of those caught my attention, but I ended up singing up for basketball because I knew I was good at it and I figured I'd be able to meet a few kids like me.
What caught my attention, were the dance lessons and choir.
In the school I had been going to in Florida, there were no dance lessons available and the choir there was a joke, only taken when students didn't want to sit in study hall for an hour. Nick and I had found that out the hard way, showing up the first week excited to get down to business and instead every time we showed up the more and more the people around us took advantage of the teacher. They did nothing but shout out the lyrics to any random song they could think of to annoy the woman in charge.
Immediately, I sighed up for both ballet and hip-hop, knowing I was one step closer to m-our dream.
Occasionally, when our parents allowed it and we had time between my basketball practice, dance lessons, and Nick's soccer practice, we would get to talk on the phone. Even though we wrote each other as often as we could, and talked on the computer nearly every night, we always found things to talk about. It was just...easy with him. Normal.
My mother started seriously dating one man at the end of my sixth grade year. I tried not to let it get to me and instead focused on everything else. I worked endlessly on my homework when I was home and did nothing but practice my dance steps when I had time.
In seventh grade I got asked out by a girl a year older than me.
At this point I had more friends than I could count. During the summer I had spent much of my time next door with a guy that just happened to be in my grade. Otherwise I was at the pool with the rest of the kids, soaking up the sun and splashing each other with laughter.
While I was getting ready to take a dive into the deep end of the public pool, a girl I knew walked up to me and asked me what I thought about a girl I didn't know. I remember giving her a questioning look and she had pointed at another girl sitting at the side of the pool, talking to the rest of her friends and showing off a deep blush. I had tried to hide my frown, reaching up to rub the back of my neck in embarrassment. Then I gave her my answer and, instead of neatly diving into the water below, I splashed in and swam to the other side where the rest of the guys were playing keep away. One of them immediately approached me and asked what she had wanted. I replied, simply stating exactly what she had said and watched as each of them came up to me, patting me on the back and smiling while calling me a playa. I glanced over at my shoulder, seeing the girl in question getting up and walking with the group of her friends away from the pool with comforting arms encased around her.
"I said no. She's not my type." They all stopped and stared at me in confusion, then one of them stepped forward and said something, but before he could make his statement I hit the closest guy's chest and smirked. "I'm more interested in your girl."
Immediately things went back to normal, all of the guys in front of me laughed in an uproar and continued the game they had been playing.
She really wasn't my type.
A year later Nick went out on his first date.
I remember him calling me that morning and telling me about what had happened. He talked about how they hadn't so much as sat together for more than a few minutes. He said that at the end of the date she had thanked him for having a good time when they had barely seen each other to begin with. Curiosity struck me. He kept talking about her reactions to the whole thing and that they didn't make sense, but really the only thing I cared about was what he thought about the whole thing. So, I asked him.
I sat there for nearly a minute in silence. My heart was beating against my chest and my palms became sweaty. A few times I had to wiped them against the jeans I was wearing while Nick stared off into space, apparently weighing his thoughts.
"Yeah." He finally said, "I mean, it wasn't bad or anything. She was pretty cool."
I frowned, though I openly tried to bite it back and smile for him. The entire time I tried to think "Wow, that's awesome. I'm happy for you!" When the thought that would surface was, "Oh...Why? I mean...Mmm." I was somehow able to muster a nod and the topic was dropped for the night.
Sometime in the next month, my mother came into my room while I was on the computer talking to Nick. We had both received laptops for our birthday, the only thing either of us had asked for. She asked me to end the call with him, and I did, shutting my laptop slowly until it closed and I was forced to turn to her. From the look on her face I knew whatever she was going to say was big news. I knew she was hesitant to tell me...
She was pregnant. Apparently she her new boyfriend were going to have a child together. I was going to have a b-half-brother!
I was ecstatic! Thrilled that I wasn't going to be an only child anymore, I hugged my mother and told her how awesome that was and she assured me many things, all which led to the fact that I wouldn't be pushed to the side or left behind just because of the new addition to the family. I nodded my head as she exited through the door and turned toward my computer once more, and reached for the keys to tell Nick...
And I stopped myself. How did I forget about Nick?
I had a brother. I had a best friend who stood by me through everything...Who put up with all the good and bad that came with me. Who told me it was fine when I cried like the baby I had been acting when I didn't see my family for more then a day or two when I stayed with him. Who I talked to every single day, no matter what our plans were...
He was my best friend. He was my family.
There was no reason I couldn't be happy for the newest addition, but at the same time I couldn't help but think that this whole time I was complaining about how I had been so alone since Florida and the entire time Nick had walked through it with me. From the laughs of awkward family encounters to the tears that were about to come...
My mom got the call from Mr. Duval about Nick's mom the day it happened.
I didn't know what to do.
I remember I was doing homework up in my room, waiting for Nick to get on like we always did... but it kept getting later and later and just before dinner, my mom walked up the stairs to my room, sat down on my bed, and told me Mrs. Duval had passed away that morning.
She didn't know how it happened or any details about what they were going to do, but she said that Nick probably either wanted to talk to me or not at all so I should just wait for him to make the call. I didn't. I called and texted him for a day straight before I realized he didn't want to talk to me. Never once had I done so and not gotten a response back immediately or as soon as he could with an apology when I picked up.
I remembered when I was living with them and Nick's mom would hand us our lunches and kiss us on our foreheads even though we hated it and she'd smile at both of us and tell us how much she loved us and we'd run out the door without even thinking about what she really meant...or when she'd greet us when we got back home and she'd spend 20 minutes asking us how our day was and what we had learned that day. She'd get so excited whenever Nick and I would actually talk and tell her the meaningless information they had stuffed into our brains.
She had been so...loving. So welcoming of me into her home and she treated me exactly like she had Nick. Like I was her own son.
This only lead me to think about how hard it had to be for him.
I was crying when he finally got online and answered me.
He didn't waste any time asking me why I was crying. At the time I didn't know how else to answer except with the blunt truth. He was hurting and it was making me hurt.
And then he broke down, completely letting go and crying into his hands in front of me. "It's not fair! What if she had just gotten up earlier instead of sleeping in like she normally did? How did she get so sick without anyone noticing? Why would they take her away from me?"
He continued to sob and every now and then I'd say what I could, how it wasn't fair and how beautiful she had been and that she shouldn't haven' left because she was too young and she was still needed. I wasn't sure what else to do in a situation like this. All I wanted was to comfort him in any way I could. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and tell him how things weren't going to be ok for a while but that I was there for him and that I wish I could just hold him until he stopped crying.
"I wish I was there." I was looking into the camera this time, knowing that I would be looking directly at him on his end. "I wish I was there right now. That I wasn't stuck here so that I could help you like you helped me in Florida. I wish I could just..." My voice broke, unable to speak what I really wanted.
I wanted to wrap my arms around him and whisper promises into his hair that things would eventually get manageable. I wanted to entwine our fingers together and run my fingertips against his palm until he fell asleep against me. I wanted to kiss his tears away that were so freely falling against his cheeks unlike I had ever seen from him before. I wanted to be there with him. I wanted to be with him.
He managed a smirk, seemingly understanding what I was trying to say and told me that even though I was thousands of miles away he felt like I was right there with him. I couldn't help but smile slightly, almost bringing up my hand to lay it against the image of him on my computer screen, I refrained though, just as he continued, "You're my best friend," he assured me. "You know that, right?" I know he didn't really mean it that way...that he didn't mean to make it sound like...His words just sounded so different from the last time he had said that.
I let my eyes wander across my keyboard for a moment, trying to compose myself and told him that I understood completely. Then he told me that he had to go and it was getting late, so we logged off and I shut my computer screen just as the tears started to fall once more.
I liked my best friend.
I liked my best friend who lived two thousand miles away.
I liked my best friend who lived two thousand miles away and was a boy.
I tried to breath through my nose, but when that failed my mouth hung open and my hands reached up to wipe away what evidence that they could.
It had been coming. I should have seen it at the time. The epiphany, I mean. Since that day at the pool I knew I was going to have to figure out what was wrong with me. At the time I had absolutely no desire to see or spend time with the opposite sex. Sure, they were cool to hang out with every now and then, but I wasn't...attracted to them like I was to other people. Like I was to Nick.
Instead of finding ways to impress the girls in my class I had spent most of the time reading comics under the hood of my desk, readying myself to discuss the latest issue of Fantastic Four. Instead of asking girls out during free periods, I spent the time in the gym, working on my latest discovered dance moves to show off via skype. Instead of going off on dates with girls, I sat in my room waiting for a text or phone call back from my best friend.
Instead of checking out girls I was checking out what features I would make out over our crappy camera quality videos.
I was gay and Nick had no idea.
When he told me a few months later that he was going to Dalton, I was heartbroken. That was only further away from me and I sick of not being able to see him face to face. I was sick of always having to wait in my room for any sign of life from him.
So, I talked to my mom. I told her everything. I told her how I hated the school I was going to and that the kids didn't understand me, even if it looked like I fit in perfectly fine. I told her how I hated basketball and that the only reason I had taken it was because I knew the other kids would pick on me if I wasn't in something other than dance.
Finally, I told her that I liked boys.
She was shocked and had no idea what to say. I wasn't your stereotypical gay kid. I played video games and like the dirt and read comics like it was my religion and she didn't, at first, understand why I didn't fit the profile of one.
She asked me if I was sure and I nodded at her, telling her yeah. She nodded back at me and ran a hand through my hair like she did when I was younger and dad had been yelling. "I will always love you. No matter who you love...and I'm sure I'll love them too."
I remember a weight being lifted at the realization that I had finally told someone...and fully admitted it to myself.
After that I went to work. I did as much research as I could on Dalton. From floor plans to meal options, I spent the majority of my time after school looking for everything positive about it. I looked for anything I could share with my mom to make her understand just how much I wanted to leave California and go to Ohio. Which didn't make sense in the slightest to anyone else. California was comforting. People were more open than most and more accepting than the majority. However, a person was still open to their own opinion and the children in my particular school in northern California, didn't seem as accepting.
I rejoiced in Dalton's policy. Zero tolerance. That's what I was looking for. I showed my mom, pointing out the most obvious statement that I would be safe there. She, however, looked at me in concern and asked why I didn't just want to find another school in the area with the same policy.
I remember my heart plummeting, face falling, thinking that she wasn't going to let me go because it was so far away. But then, she placed her hand on my knee and made me look at her.
"It's because of Nick, isn't it?"
I didn't react other than the widening of my eyes, but I knew she understood.
"I talked to Nick's father a while ago. He said he was going to put him there so he could settle down..." My mother stared at me for a long while and at the time I couldn't figure out what was passing behind her eyes as she examined me.
I refused to look away, telling myself that I was going to win this. "He's my best friend, mom," I stated simply.
She took me in her arms, told me how much she loved me, and kissed the top of my head before telling me that she would call the school to make arrangements.
That was it. I was going to Dalton...and Nick.
I kept it a secret, only passing on information to Nick about the school, but never revealing that I, too, was going to be there in less than a couple months. Then the time came. I packed my things one final time and headed for the car and the airport.
The flight there was easy, I slept the majority of the way with my head on my mom's shoulder. I woke only when she prodded me and pointed toward the skyline outside as we were about to land. Then we made our way straight to the campus.
It was bigger than I thought it was going to be. It almost seemed like college, or what I thought college was like. There was a garden that the students took turns managing, a dance hall for private lessons after regular class, and an all-you-can-eat-buffet that I knew Nick was going to flip over. The principal showed me briefly where I was going to be staying, room 209 in the west wing, near the glee club room...with Nick.
My mother and Nick's father had made arrangements together. They knew it was a good idea for us to move here and live separately so that we could make new friends and socialize amongst our peers...but they also knew that as soon as both of us were aware we were at the same school, we would find a way to live together anyway. Like we use to.
That night my mother and I stayed in a hotel nearby and I didn't fall asleep until nearly and hour before I was suppose to wake up, excitement coursing through my veins and a smile plastered on my face. I woke up with just enough time to get ready and pack what few clothes I had brought in my carry on.
When we arrived back at Dalton, my things were already there in the moving truck, completely paid for by my mom's boyfriend, who, as it turned out from my lack of attention span, was wealthy from a electronic company that he owned. Later on I found out he was the reason I was able to come here in the first place, paying for all of my expenses for the full four years I attended Dalton.
The principal greeted us. He told me that my roommate was already upstairs unpacking.
I didn't take the time to set down what I was holding, and ran for the room as fast as I could. My feet nearly slipped out from under me three times, but I was able to catch myself just as I reached our open door.
Our door. Our room.
I composed myself. My heart was beating against my chest and I nearly dropped the box in my hands from the sweat I was creating. I was lightheaded and winded, from running or the thrill of it all, I wasn't sure.
I knocked on the door and stepped inside.
His back was to me and he seemed to be fiddling with something on the floor in front of him. "Hey, hold on. I'm a little..."
His voice sounded different. It felt so real to be able to hear him face to face, in the same room.
He stood, turning toward me with a smile and his hand held out until he realized who I was and the smile fell into shock and confusion.
I laughed and apologized, joking with him. "Hey, man. Sorry to cramp your style." I bent down to set the box I was holding on the floor. I feared that if I didn't I would drop it from how hard I was shaking.
"Guess I'm gonna be your new roommate." I sighed a shaky breath.
He was on the other side of the room one second and the next he was right in front of me. A day ago he was thousands of miles away. Now he was hugging me harder than I remembered him hugging me goodbye four years ago.
I didn't know what else to say or do, so I lifted my arms as best I could and tried to hug him back, my head falling to rest of the top of his.
I heard him breath against the collar of my shirt.
"Jeffie."
A/N: Hopefully I will update by Saturday night or Sunday morning! I've already written half the chapter, now it's just a matter of getting enough time to finish it. AND IT PICKS UP AT THIS MEETING. IN NICK POV. I will not write the other chapters with each of their views on it, I just needed to understand what happened with Jeff and this was it...I was reading through the second chapter and some of it wasn't making sense because you didn't know everything about Jeff yet.
You know, I think I make these guys seem more mature than what most people think kids these age act. But, think about what they're going through. What they have to deal with. I also remember from my own experience knowing everything that was going on around me in perfect detail. I also remember the anger I would feel whenever my parents would act like I didn't. (I went through kinda the same thing as Jeff, so I can relate in understanding...)
ALSO: There were a shit ton of favorites and alerts for this, I hope I'm not letting you guys down. I really quite enjoy this chapter. Thank you to everyone who reviewed! It really means a lot, to any author, when you get feedback, constructive criticism or praise.