Jason hides away in one of the boys' bathroom stalls, staring at the faded beige walls and too bright graffiti. Some of it is crude and obscene, mostly about Ivy, but two comments are painfully profound, if a tad overdramatic. 'Today we mourn the death of honesty to the art of saving face,' says one, in bold blue permanent marker scribbled at an angle onto the door, and really, how much had Jason lied and pretended, just in order to save his reputation. He'd gotten Peter to lie as well, but now it was all over, in more ways than one. His popularity and the 'golden boy' status he'd tried so hard to maintain had probably died a swift death by Matt's remark, which was sure to have spread among the rest of the school by now. And, now this thing he'd had with Peter was over too. He sighs, and tugs a hand through his hair and, reluctantly, yet knowing he can't waylay it forever, steps out of the stall. The only other occupant is a young boy of around fourteen who looks at him with something that's almost awe with just a little hint of fear, and as Jason looks into the mirror, he can almost see himself at that age. A bit more unsure, and already feeling the pressure from his father, playing sports he hated just because the older man had wanted it, in a feeble attempt to prove something to himself, to take his mind off his ever-growing attraction to his new roommate. And as they pass each other, he thinks of the other writing on the wall, 'People who you look up to are really just as fucked up as you', and almost wonders what the general student population would think if they knew the truth about him. Almost, but he doesn't, because it's obvious. He's an abomination, and now they'll all know.

When he does finally make it up to the dorm to pack, there's a hastily scribbled note from Peter lying on his bed, saying that his mom had come earlier than expected, and ending on a hopeful 'see you after break', like nothing had changed between them. Jason wants that, but he knows all too well that wanting something enough will not make it true. After all, if it did, he would never have had any romantic feelings towards a boy in the first place. Not even Peter, never mind how Peter tasted, or the fact that he felt so right against him… Fuck.

He has to make himself get over him. But it hadn't worked at the start, so he knows it won't work now, especially since now he actually knows what it's like to have Peter.

He'd almost finished packing up for break when there's an almost hesitant knock at his door. It's Ivy, and he really doesn't want to talk to her, but he knows he has to, anyway. He can't just lead her on, not when that kiss hadn't meant anything to him, when he just wasn't interested in her.

"Hey. Leaving soon?" she asked.

"Yeah. Tonight" Jason hadn't meant to, the original plan had been to leave tomorrow morning, but he's catching the fucking train anyway and it's not like his parents will question it, or even give a fuck. There's not much point staying overnight without Peter, anyway. There's Nadia, of course but she'll just be ecstatic at not having to spend any more time with Ivy.

"Me too," she says, though he hadn't asked. He's still packing up, fumbling with a book Peter had given to him for his birthday last year, all the gay subtext underlined in faint pencil. It had been a good present, although Peter waking him up early on that Saturday morning with a birthday blowjob had been even better. The memory almost makes him smile, before he remembers that nothing like that will be happening this year. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm hanging in there," he says, too quickly and knows that she'll recognise the lie for what it is. Thankfully, she doesn't call him out on it, only replies, "Me too," and it's glaringly obvious that she's okay in the same sense that he is, only by attempts to make himself seem so.

"Look, erm… I didn't want to take off before apologising, for the way I acted at my party. I was," He'd been a fool that night, he'd ignored Peter and acted like such a fucking asshole. "wasted and I didn't mean to like, throw myself at you." She finished, hesitantly.

"It's okay," he assures her, with a lie that comes too easily. "It was kinda cute, actually." It should've been. He's quite sure Matt would consider Ivy throwing herself at him some sort of dream come true but it only serves to make him somewhat queasy, like after eating those muffins that he and Peter had found left behind in one of the cupboards when they'd first been assigned to this room.

"But I meant all those things I said. I really do like you Jason. I can't quite put my finger on the why, but there's just something about you, you know." And it's like a swift punch to the gut, because that's how he feels about Peter, how he's not supposed to feel about Peter. There's something about Peter too, something in his shy smile and the way his dusky eyelashes cast shadows like crumbling charcoal across his eyes that just captivates Jason every single fucking time.

"You want me to kiss you, don't you? Kiss you is what I'm supposed to do…" he trails off, because he knows that it's true. It's what God wants, after all, and surely God must know best.

"So, are you going to?" Ivy asks coyly, looking at him in a way that was probably supposed to be enticing, but all he can do is feel sorry for her, sorry for Matt. It wasn't fair that Ivy wanted him, if he couldn't reciprocate, wasn't fair that Matt liked her so much. And what, with Ivy practically throwing herself at him, how could he possibly be surprised that Matt had gone off drinking last night, that he'd gotten Peter drunk. No wonder Peter had told him. After all, he'd done to Peter what Ivy had done to Matt, only it had been a thousand times worse, because Ivy had never even pretended to like Matt, whereas he did like Peter, too much. So much as to try to give him up.

"If you like me, kiss me. I want you. I know you see it in my eyes. I tried, but it's so hard to hide."

"Hide with me," he responds, and in a way it's almost instinct, because isn't that what he'd asked Peter to do? Lie and pretend, and watch as so many girls flirted with Jason, as he flirted back, even though he didn't really care about any of them. Watch the betrayal, and only wonder how long they would last.

"Chasing you is such a game of hide and seek," Ivy tells him, not knowing that she's actually referring more to his and Peter's relationship, played out in shadowy corners and behind locked doors. There must be something seriously wrong with Jason if he can't stop thinking about Peter on the very day that he'd had broken up with him. It's not fair, it's not right, it's terribly sinful, and he should like Ivy instead. It would be so much more normal. Yeah, he should like her, because weren't all the others jerking off to the memories of one-night stands with Ivy Robinson. He should like it as she kisses him, with lips too slick with dark lipgloss and hands that clench too tight in his hair, as if clinging on to the moment, but the only person Jason ever wanted to freeze time for was Peter. Her mouth is too wet, coated with too much saliva, and God, how drunk must Jason have been last night not to remember how wrong this felt? The bizarre thing was that this was supposed to be right, was supposed to feel as right as being with Peter shouldn't.

She pulls away and reaches up to undo the buttons of her shirt, and he supposes he should feel something except this utter numbness. Instead, he kisses her again, not letting himself flinch when he feels her tongue twist against his own, in a feeble attempt to put off the moment most guys would want to hurry to. Straight guys, like Jason is supposed to be.

Her top is unbuttoned, the nipples of her large breasts dark and hard. Experimentally, he rubs one in his hand, and she moans, too high, too soft, too girly. It's not nearly enough of a gasp, not low enough, not Peter enough.

He can't do this, not even to prove to himself that he's just as normal as everyone else

He can't do this, not even to prove to himself that he's just as normal as everyone else, even as Peter's last words to him echo in his mind "you're all I have." Sometimes Peter is all he has too, and it terrifies him. He just wants to be normal.

But he's not. Because everyone else (thankfully) hasn't been secretly fucking Peter for months behind closed doors, everyone else is actually living a life that doesn't mean constantly looking around, fearing that someone had seen you kiss someone who is only supposed to be your best friend. He can't come out, but he sure as hell can't go that far into the hypothetical closet, not when it feels so much like he's cheating on Peter. It shouldn't feel like he's cheating on Peter, they're not even together anymore, but old habits are hard to break (especially when you don't really want to) and it does.

He can't do this to Peter, to Ivy, to Matt, to himself. And, in a way even to Nadia, because he's almost about to sleep with a girl his twin sister hates and that he's not even particularly attracted to, all to take his mind off another boy and his own mistakes.

He pushes her away gently.

"I can't do this. It isn't you, I swear it. It's just that," he breaks away, wondering what he can possibly say in such a situation, because ironically Peter had always been the better liar; whether to lie or not, and eventually settles for the easy half-truth. "I… already have feelings for someone else, and it wouldn't be fair. To either of you."

Ivy stares at him in shock, but there's almost a glimmer of sad understanding in her eyes, and Jason thinks that maybe they'll be able to salvage their friendship from this mess, like a crippled survivor from a burning building, as long as she doesn't decide to become a matchmaker for him and the 'other girl.'

"Oh," she says, and gives him a small, sardonic smile. "I'm not that sure I'd mind."

He laughs slightly, relieved that she at least seems to be taking it reasonably well and replies that he'd rather not blow his chances so early.

She fiddles with her skirt, twirling unravelling threads around in elaborate patterns. "Who is she, anyway?"

Shit. Well, in hindsight he really should've seen that one coming.

"Erm, Matt likes you. It wouldn't be fair to him either. He's kind of my friend." He hedges, because that's the one question he definitely can't answer.

"I know." She snaps, like she's tired of hearing it, and Jason wonders if she'd known he'd end up turning her down. But she sighs, and he doesn't ask. "I mean, he's kind of cute in a way, I guess, but he's not you." She smoothes out invisible wrinkles, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. "I guess you're not going to tell me then."

All he can do is shake his head, ignoring how doubly disappointed she looks. Seriously, why did so many girls like matchmaking? At least his sister was more normal.

"I wish I could be in love with you," he admits, and she looks up, startled. "It would be easier than the reality, anyway." He stands up, grabbing his bags, and slinging one over his left shoulder. "Anyway, I've sort of got to go. See you after break I guess."

Impulsively, he reaches down and hugs her goodbye, and lets her kiss him for the last time, a faint, light peck on his lips. When he pulls away, her eyes are damp, and a somewhat broken half-smile on her face, but at least she's trying and that has to be a start, right?

"I'm sure she likes you back," she shouts after him. "After all, who wouldn't?" Ivy sounds almost wistful, and it throws him for a moment because he's never heard Ivy sound wistful before, like she'd wanted something she won't ever be able to get but knows she has to accept that.

He'd heard Peter sound like that too many times.

Nadia waits for him in the hall, one bag slung carelessly over her shoulder with an almost mirrored action of his own, and the other lying at her feet.

"You look like shit," is her only greeting. "Ready?"

"Sure," he replies, wishing he could answer with some witty comment, but he knows that he must indeed look pretty awful. Already, he knows that it's going to be an even worse holiday than usual. Their parents will be busy as always, and he probably won't even be able to talk to Peter, because how could Peter possibly want to talk to him now?

As the train pulls out of the almost deserted station, he listens to his iPod on shuffle, song after song that he can barely hear over the pitter-patter of the rain outside, his sister's cello practice and the sound of his own, too loud thoughts. One of the songs startles him, as if he'd been jolted awake by a bolt of sudden lightning or God's own gentle, guiding hand. It's not a song he particularly knows, he'd probably only heard it once or twice before, but that's not what actually matters.

'Whatever it takes'

Jason knows that's what he'll have to do if he's to have any hope whatsoever of getting Peter back.