u/Material-Ad4408

All characters are 18+ and consenting adults. A full list of chapters can be found here.

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“I can’t do this, Will… I just… I’m sorry…”

The words replay in my head on a constant loop. “I can’t do this… I can’t do this… I can’t do this…”

It’s death by a thousand cuts.

I’m numb and I don’t know how I manage to make it back to my house until I’m walking in the back door. I just want to crawl into bed and wallow until the pain goes away. My body as I slide the key in, almost as if it’s anticipating the inevitable questions. But when I walk into the kitchen, I’m met with something else. Maman stands at the stove while Mom sits with Jarrod, whose own eyes are red and puffy.

He slides off the stool and wraps his arms around me, burying his head in my shoulder. I immediately push down my own feelings, mustering every ounce of strength I have to focus on him. I can sense it—I sensed it the moment I walked through the door. Something bad has happened to him.

“Thank God you’re back,” he whispers, and I squeeze him reassuringly. Jarrod sniffles into my shoulder as Mom and Maman look at us sympathetically.

“My parents heard what happened…” he whispers hoarsely. “And they…” He doesn’t finish it as he breaks down in tears. “I didn’t know where to go.”

“It’s going to be okay. You’re safe now,” I tell him softly as he heaves a large sob into my shoulder, the fabric of my shirt damp from the tears streaming down his face. We sink down onto the kitchen floor as he chokes out another sob.

I remember Jarrod telling me his parents were the strict religious type, but hadn’t wanted to speak much further, and I knew better than to ask more. Based on the few times I’ve seen them around town, they were uptight and severe.

Mom sets a box of tissues down next to us as I stroke Jarrod’s back. I don’t say anything for a long time, waiting for him to be ready to talk when he’s ready. We stay like that for a while, and it keeps my mind off Austin and the constant loop of “I can’t do this…”

“I’m sorry about your shirt,” he says softly, snapping me out of the trance I was in.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, waving him off. “Do you want to talk about it, or…?” I barely get the words out before he shakes his head.

“Brad wasn’t picking up and I was so scared and I just grabbed some clothes and ran. It wasn’t until I was three blocks away that I realized I had nowhere else to go. I’m sorry for just showing up…”

“Do not apologize, Jarrod. You are staying here with us, and we will not take no for an answer,” Maman says, kneeling beside him and resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “The guest room across from Will’s room is all made up, and you will be safe here.”

“Will, take him upstairs and show him his room while we get dinner ready,” Mom says. “Jarrod, make a list of anything you need, and we’ll get it for you as soon as we can.”

I help Jarrod off the floor, and he looks at us with wide, sad eyes with a glimmer of hope in them. “Thank you both for being so kind.”

They both give him a smile and a hug before sending us upstairs towards the guest room. He’s moving slowly, the weight of the past week crushing him and all the positivity he normally exudes. The guest room is cheerful, painted a light green color, similar to the new leaves just beginning to grow on the trees outside. Fresh towels sit neatly folded on the dresser along with a new toothbrush, a few other toiletry items, and a warm vanilla scented candle that makes the room feel homey and welcoming.

“I’m sorry for just showing up,” Jarrod says, dropping a small duffel bag on the bed.

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” I say, grabbing both his biceps and looking him in the eye. “You’re my friend and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Jarrod’s eyes are bloodshot and puffy from crying, but the corners of his mouth pull up a bit in gratitude. “Thanks, Will,” he says, exhaling slowly as if he’s releasing weeks of tension. He stares at the empty phone screen as if he’s trying to will a text to appear. “I just wish Brad would pick up his phone. I need to talk to him.”

“He’ll call you when he’s able to,” I say trying to be reassuring. “Wasn’t he at a memorial thing today for his grandparents?”

He nods slowly, his bottom lip trembling as if he’s about to break down again. “I just wish he was here.”

I wrap an arm around him and pull him close until Maman sticks her head in, letting us know dinner is ready whenever we are. “Come on, let’s get something to eat. There’s nothing like good food in times like this,” I say, pulling him up from the bed. “Brad would kill me if I let you starve.” Jarrod smiles at me weakly as we follow the scent of comfort food.

Brad calls Jarrod halfway through dinner, and he disappears upstairs, leaving me alone with Mom and Maman. They’ve been trying to keep us distracted, but as hard as they try, the emotions are still raw for Jarrod.

“Thank you for letting him stay here,” I say once I hear the door close upstairs. “I know you didn’t have to, but it means a lot.”

“Will, stop that right now,” Mom scolds, though she takes my hand. “We would never let one of your friends—or anyone—be left with nowhere to go.”

I give her hand a squeeze as Maman adds, “Truthfully, we’ve been thinking something like this might happen and have been planning for it.”

“Celeste,” Mom starts, but Maman continues.

“You met his parents last year at that fundraiser for the school. She is the nastiest woman who has ever drawn breath, and he is a bigot. They are horrible people,” Maman says, her French accent a little thicker as she sips her wine. My attention is drawn back to the doorway, where Jarrod stands, looking a little shocked at what he’s just heard.

“Jarrod, ignore her…” Mom says, but he shakes his head.

“She’s right…” he says quietly, sitting back down at the table, his shoulders slumped. “Neither of them are the good people they pretend to be. And this brought out their true colors for all the world to see.”

“Not everyone is blessed with a supportive family,” Mom tells him quietly, her own experiences creeping into her voice. “This is why you surround yourself with the people who love you for who you are. We find our chosen families, and they help get us through the hard times.”

He smiles weakly and nods. “I’m lucky to have you three right now. I don’t know what I would have done if…”

“Don’t let those intrusive thoughts in. You’re safe here, and we won’t let anything happen to you.” Mom squeezes his hand, looking him in the eye until he nods in understanding.

“Trust me, you don’t want to be on her bad side. Roz has a mean right hook,” Maman says.

“Is that where you got it from?” Jarrod asks me, and our laughter breaks some of the tension hanging in the air. I see Jarrod relax slightly for the first time since I got home, and a small glimmer of hope brightens his eyes.

I lay in bed later that night, staring at the ceiling. The faint glow of phone screen illuminates the space around me as an old episode of I Love Lucy plays silently. I searched for any distraction to take my mind off Austin’s words today, but they keep ringing in my head. I imagine a record player in my head just continuously skipping back to that one line over and over again. I want to reach into my head and smash it into a million pieces, so I never have to hear them again.

I’ve picked up my phone probably a hundred times, starting to type out a message only to delete it. I keep hoping there will be some sign he is just as desperate to text me. I long to see those three little bubbles pop up on my screen.

“Will?” Jarrod’s faint voice breaks the silence. A thin bar of light from the hallway stretches across my room as Jarrod opens the door a bit further. “Are you awake?”

I roll to my side and say, “Yeah, I am,” in a slightly hoarse voice. I hear his bare feet pad against the hardwood floor and feel the weight of his body sink into the mattress.

“Everything okay?” I ask him as my eyes adjust to his shadowy figure.

“I just… I didn’t want to be alone,” he whispers.

I throw the covers back and pat the other side of the mattress. “Stay here tonight.”

“Are… are you sure?”

“Yeah,” I say before adding, “Truth is, I don’t want to be alone either right now.”

I feel the bed shift as he slides in next to me, lying on his side so he’s looking right at me. His hand reaches out and gives mine a squeeze as he asks, “Are you okay?”

I didn’t know those three words could feel so loaded. Okay doesn’t even begin to cover the tempest of emotions swirling inside my mind right now. I’m sad—in mourning for me and Austin, and what could have been. Sad and scared for Jarrod and the sudden loss of everything he’s ever known. Angry that Austin doesn’t have the balls to do what’s right and have a conversation with me. Enraged that he dropped that bomb on me with no explanation, no concern for how it might affect me. Enraged at his selfishness for only thinking of himself when his friends' worlds just completely imploded. I’m grateful that Jarrod is safe and felt comfortable enough to come here, and that the moms took him in without even batting an eye. And I feel so small, like I want to curl up in the corner and cry the pain away.

There is the smallest glimmer of hope burning deep inside me that Austin will realize his mistake and come back, sweeping me up in a big romantic gesture to declare his love for me. It’s a foolish thought because life isn’t a Disney movie. Princes don’t come to save you, and the guys you love don’t make big romantic gestures to win you back. Austin won’t be standing outside my window with a boombox or riding up in a white limo to rescue me.

I hesitate before saying, “I don’t know,” and even in the dark room, I sense the look of concern crossing his face. Before I can even think about it, the words are tumbling out of my mouth: all the events from the last few days, the “I can’t do this,” all the built-up emotions and feelings. Everything.

I don’t know when Jarrod reaches out and pulls me closer, but when I feel like I can’t say anything more, he hugs me close, his hand rubbing my back soothingly as my breathing becomes jagged. The warmth of his body near mine is comforting, making me feel a little less numb from reliving the whole experience again for the thousandth time today.

“Will… I…” Jarrod starts but doesn’t know what to say.

“I know,” I reply.

“I’m sorry…” he whispers, but we both know it’s just words.

“Thanks,” I say. “But it isn’t what’s important right now. I want to make sure you’re—”

“Will de Rochefort!” Jarrod’s voice is commanding, making me pause, especially when he uses my last name. “Don’t use me as an excuse to avoid processing your own feelings.”

“I’m not avoiding…” I start but Jarrod cuts me off.

“Will…”

A deep, jagged breath escapes my lips, and for the first time since Austin walked away from me, the numbness starts fading. A sob builds inside my chest, a heavy, aching lump working its way up until the first hot tears roll down my cheek.

I try to swallow it back down, to be the strong one right now, but the dam has already breached. Every hope I had for our future, every need I had for Austin—his touches and affection—and every fear I had of being found out collapses into one singular, shaking exhale.

I feel Jarrod’s arms tighten around me, his presence a steady anchor as the first sob finally breaks free, loud and ugly in the quiet of the room. It’s not a movie-star cry; it’s the sound of someone who has been holding up the sky and finally letting go. The heat of the tears sear against my skin, a stinging reminder that as strong as I may want to be, in the end, I am just a boy in a dark room, grieving a future that Austin decided wasn't worth the risk.

Killshot 2s