NO GREY ☄ JESSE/ZACH

money, money, money

"You know, Mr.Stump might actually get you one day for smoking in the hallway." Matt spoke tiredly, leaning against the corner of the bathroom stall as Jesse lit yet another cigarette, the flame from the lighter brightening his eyes like Christmas lights. Jesse had smoked in the hallways of every school he had been to since he was 15, and he had no intentions of stopping any time soon. Each of the 17 high schools in his county had "caught him" smoking, drinking, or doing far worse shit and expelled him for it, but it didn't stop him. He had let them catch him, because he knew that he would end back here at this school, which was his plan. Matt was his best friend and he wasn't going to leave him just because of some fucked up school system. 

"Yeah well, if that carrot top does then I'll deal with it, alright M? I'm fine." A few stray blonde locks fell in his eyes as he exhaled the smoke that he could feel filling his lungs, like an infection he was encouraging to kill him. He was, but nobody had to know that as far as he was concerned. He pulled out his phone and looked at the time, seeing as it was almost time for the last period of the day. Jesse caught Matt staring at the tattoos littering his arms and smirked, knowing what he was thinking. Matt had been head over heels for Jesse for a year and a half now, but it didn't phase Jesse. To say the least Matt wasn't his type, even if they were practically identical. Jesse didn't even know what his type was, but he knew it wasn't Matt. 

"Let's go to class today, J. Maybe it'll be interesting." Jesse turned to Matt and stood up, exhaling smoke in his face. The boy's eyes fluttered shut as he inhaled the smoke, and a chuckle escaped Jesse's lips as he started to walk out of the bathroom. How could someone be so fucking perfect? He leaned against the wall of the bathroom, his eyes sparkling as he looked over at Matt through his tousled blonde locks. Leather jacket, "I ♡ New York" shirt, cuffed faded blue jeans, socks with the Van Gogh blue swirls and moons on them, and high top black Converse. Jesse Rutherford was the definition of art. Matt adored him, because who didn't, and even though they were best friends Matt would fuck him before anyone else would. No matter what Jesse didn't feel that way about him and he had to realize that, but at the same time he could have hope, right? 

"Come on, M. Let's go to art." Jesse huffed, tossing his cigarette butt into the trash can before walking out of the bathroom. The two walked side by side down the hallways of the old, crumbling brick school and tried their best not to make eye contact with any of the students who were staring at them, their eyes full of disgust and fear. Jesse and Matt only cared about each other, and if anyone else bothered them then it was trouble. They were infamous around the school, and around the entire town; potheads, rebels, outcasts, trouble makers, lone rangers. Rumors surrounded their name and if they had to be honest, they couldn't care less. Because nothing mattered anymore, not when the world is falling apart around you. 

The unfamiliar art door came into view and it made Jesse's gut clench. He had never been in this class and it was two months into the school year, he wasn't nervous but he didn't want all those people staring at him when him and Matt walked through the door. Because as always they were late, ten minutes late in fact, but what could he say? He was a slow walker and liked to take in the smell of his leather jacket that also smelled slightly of weed and vodka. 

Matt opened the door and walked into the class, which immediately turned to stare at the two. Jesse walked up behind his shoulder and whispered in his ear, "Good job being subtle, you fuckin' dick eater." Apparently the teacher heard his comment, and she looked at him disapprovingly. Jesse and Matt scoffed in sync and looked at her, leaning against each other as they looked at the teacher, who looked as if she was in desperate need of alcohol. "Mr.Rutherford, Mr.Musto. We thought you'd never show up. You probably don't care, but I'm Mrs.Franta and this is my class. Sit wherever there's a seat, I don't care." Her voice was tired and slightly frustrated as she sat back in her chair behind a wooden desk that was painted with a winter landscape. Even Jesse had to admit it was beautiful. 

Matt had already taken a seat by a black haired, blue eyed guy-Andy something- and they were flirting already if Jesse had to guess. He looked around and scanned the room, looking for an open seat somewhere, preferably in the back of the room where he could avoid the judgmental stares of everyone else. His eyes locked with a brunette, who's eyes sparkled as he stared at Jesse. He had long, hazelnut colored curls that flattered his sharp cheekbones and a petite, lanky body for someone that was a senior. The boy turned away with a sharp blush rising to his cheeks and stared at his shoes, tapping his Doc Marten clad feet on the dingy tile. Jesse's heart skipped a beat as he walked towards the boy and sat down at the desk next to him. 

"Hi, 'm Jesse. Fuck, you probably know that. I've never seen you around, you're cute. Name?" An even brighter blush rose to the boy's cheeks as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a shaky index finger, and he turned his head slightly to face the blonde. A feeling of hope rose in Jesse's stomach as the brunette looked up at him through his eyelashes, "'M Zach, Zach Abels. A-And I'm n-not cute, j-just dainty." His voice was nervous and he sounded slightly scared, and for some reason it made Jesse's stomach drop out of his body. This boy was so adorable, how could he be so nervous around someone like Jesse? 

"I can tell, but you're precious so it balances out. Dainty looks good on you, anyways. Well uh, it's nice to meet you Zach Abels. I think I'm gonna go now, class isn't my thing as you might know. Uh, talk later." With that, Jesse stood up and walked out of the classroom with Matt following suit. The teacher glared behind them disgustedly and turned back to her desk without a word. 

Zach's heart was now out and on his sleeve, he knew it. Jesse Rutherford was like the mysterious dream boy that he had dreamed of since he was seven years old, and they had finally talked. Well, not really talked because of course, like always, his awkward self had to screw things up. Who knows, that may have been the only time they would ever talk and with his luck it was. He intertwined his hands and ran his thumb over the scar that ran along the scar that rested on his right hand. The familiar up raised skin reminded him that no, this wasn't who he should be, and it wasn't right. 

When was anything ever right anymore? 

✰

Inhale. 

Exhale. 

Jesse's joint was growing smaller with every drag, to him it was beautiful, a piece of art. His body relaxed against the side of his window where he sat, sitting on the slanted roof that was also his way to get out if he ever needed to. Now he was broke, he had spent $300 on his weekly supply of weed and he had no other money. He had spent his 'birthday' money on weed because he had nothing else to spend it on, and it had gone to good use. Killing him slowly, slowly, like he wanted it to. It was even slower than cigarettes and healthier, so it didn't effect the outside of his body. Hopefully, anyways. 

"Jesse?" his mom walked in to his room, looking tired as always, and Jesse flicked his joint into the bushes below and climbed back into his room. His mom was the only person besides Matt that he cared about, ever since his dad passed away and his sister disappeared. When he died his family fell apart, his mother sinking in to a black hole of emotions and his sister turning to whatever she could that would take her to the edge of death. Jesse hadn't been much affected by his dad's death, because he was already completely done with trying to keep his will to live. He had decided to stay with his mom and make sure she was alright, even though he knew she never would be. 

"Yeah, mom?" She was shaking slightly as she looked at him, tears threatening to spill out of her eyes at any moment. He rushed to her and held her small face in his hands, holding her chin up to where they locked eyes. "Mom, what's wrong? Is everything alright? You're not hurt, are you?" Questions and worry spilled out of his mouth while his mom just shook her head, she never admitted when something was wrong. His only wish was that she would. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine baby. I just wanted you to know that I'll be working double shifts tomorrow so I won't be home tomorrow night, okay? That's all bub." With that, she walked out of the room and cracked her son's door slightly open. 

He knew that she wished his dad was there, that his sister had stayed, and that he wasn't spiraling out of control like he was. What she didn't know, though, was that every night when she went to her room after work he listened to her cry for hours, until he fell asleep in the hallway.