Part five

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Jack P.O.V.

When the final bell of the day finally buzzed around the school, I put my earphones in and turned on the music, because for the first time, I wanted to avoid talking at all costs. I just smiled at people when I saw them mouth my name but carried on walking, not stopping for anyone. I wasn't sure what was wrong me, I would usually spend ages after school just hanging about without a second thought about home, but today was different and the thought of being secluded in my room away from everyone was heavenly.

I was surprised to see my parents' cars in the drive and the idea of just laying down on my bed in peace for a while was thrown out the window. I sighed and took out my earphones before I opened the door, knowing they weren't going to leave me alone tonight until it got 9pm. My parents weren't the most affectionate people, but I knew they felt bad about working 24/7 and never seeing me. I think they thought that material made up for the time they should've been with me, but it didn't. Time couldn't be replaced.

For a moment I considered going out and not returning until evening, but I was in my uncomfortable school uniform and there were still tons of people I knew milling about. I treasured a few more seconds of being alone then open the door, making my parents aware of my arrival.

"Jack!" My mother came out of the lounge, looking happy to see me. Her hair was brushed back perfectly into a ponytail, a thin layer of make up enhanced her features but when she smiled her eyes didn't light up. She had had cosmetic surgery nearly two years ago and the only thing that was natural were her eyes. She was still wearing her work clothes - a white shirt with the top buttons undone, a black blazer and knee length skirt. She couldn't have been home for long because the first thing she usually does get back is dress down into a simple vest and pajama bottoms.

"Why are you home so early?"

"Don't be too pleased to see me! There was a power cut at work and your father isn't feeling well."

"Oh," was all I could say. I went into the kitchen and went to fridge and got a drink and raided the cupboards to find something small to eat. My mother's watchful eyes followed me around the room until I settled with cereal and sat down at the counter. The silence and stares were beginning to make me feel awkward and I shuffled nervously in my seat.

"How was school?"

"Fine," I didn't hear the disappointment hanging in my voice until I heard it. I went through my day in my head, visual memories bringing up nothing important until I remembered Dean. Dean hadn't been in any of my classes for the rest of the day and I had looked out for him during lunch but I remembered the dropping of my heart when bell rang to signal our last class was about to start and I never found him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Are you seeing anyone today?"

"I'll ring Felix," I shrugged, not wanting to tell her I just wanted to be alone. She would start to worry about her 'perfect son' and wouldn't let drop it until it had been at least six months and I had been completely normal up to then.

"You've been spending a lot of time with him recently; do you think that's the best idea?" Her voice dropped to a sickly sweet tone, the kind you use when trying to calm down a baby. "Are you turning into a faggot? You know how me and your father feel about faggots."

"Fine, I won't see anyone. I'll be in my room, alone. Don't make dinner for me," I sighed heavily out of annoyance and dumped my dishes in the sink and went upstairs, making sure I retrieved my school bag that I had left by the door.

I slammed my door when I got to the safety of my room which told them it would be best to leave me with just my thoughts until further notice. I threw myself face down on my unmade bed, savouring the silence. I turned onto my back, staring at the ceiling.

My parents were homophobic but I couldn't understand why. They weren't religious, but they looked down on gay couples like dirt. I used to follow their ways and opinions but as I grew older, I realised I didn't really have a problem with it, learning someone's sexuality didn't change my opinion on them. Sexuality was a very minor detail in someone's life, but to my parents, being gay was the worst thing you could be.

Since my bed was pushed up against the wall, I had a full view of my room where I was lying. There were stacks of DVDs and games next to a huge TV with game consoles scattered around and opposite was a small sofa that I used so often my shape was almost moulded into it. My walls were mainly plain apart from some big posters that hung in frames, but my desk was covered everything that had found its way onto the floor at one point and I wasn't sure what to do with it.

I spotted my journal sitting in the middle of all the clutter and after grabbing one of my limited spare pens from my school bag, I sat down at my desk and began flicking through the pages, reading some of my lost thoughts. Eventually I gained the courage to go to a fresh new page but stared at it blankly. My head was swimming with thoughts about Dean but I wasn't sure where to start. 

Wednesday 7th January 

Okay, well that's something. This entry felt a lot more revealing than anything I had ever written. I felt almost scared  to write something I knew would never be read by anyone else. Just write, Jack. What could possibly be so bad? 

We've got a new boy in school, his name is Dean Dobbs. I sat next to him in maths and he was nervous and shy at first but I think there's more to him than what he lets show. I like it when he talks, I could listen to him all day. 

I chewed on my lip reading what I had written a hundred times over but it wasn't complete, I needed more. 

He's almost the complete opposite to me. He has dark hair that falls down just above his shoulders and a swishy fringe that goes across his forehead. He's the shortest person I know. He isn't cocky or full of himself, but he's funny and helpful when he needs to be. 

He doesn't like to be centre of attention, I noticed that it puts him under pressure but when it's 1-1 he's great company. He doesn't feel like he needs to fill every second with conversation which is a nice change from all my other friends, but he could be completely different once I get to know him better. Maybe one day he'll completely open up to me. 

I barely know him but I know in myself I need Dean. 

I knew what I wanted to put down next, but did I dare write it? Do it, it's not like anyone's going to read it anyway. No cares enough for that. 

I'm lonely. 

I'm so lonely. 

And I was. I had friends, I had people to talk to, but I wasn't close to anyone. I know I scoffed at the idea of having a best friend before, but truth was I craved for one. I didn't have anyone I could rely on. I didn't have siblings. I didn't have anyone to care for. I didn't have anyone to look out for me. I didn't have anyone I could get all personal with. I didn't have anyone who I could promise I would never share their secrets. I didn't have anyone I could help face their fears. I didn't have anyone I could laugh at lame jokes with. I just didn't have anyone. 

Sometimes I wished I was one of the introverted students that had friendship groups of four. They always had the better quality friendships. I didn't need to ask or talk to them about it, you could just see it. But I was cursed with the characteristic of an extrovert that loved people, apart from today, and I didn't seem to have enough time to build good relationships with others. 

But this time I would try and gain a best friend with Dean, if he let me. I grabbed my iPod and selected I Write Sins Not Tragedies then docked it on my speakers so the oh so familiar drum beats and guitar chords played through them loudly. I had known Dean Dobbs for not even 12 hours and yet I somehow felt totally attached to this boy already.

I turned back to my journal and picked up my pen again so I could write the last few things that were on my mind.

Dean is the start of a new life. I'm certain of it. Dean is special, and he has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. 

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