letter sixteen

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Did I want to go? It didn't matter what I wanted, my feet went where my heart told them to go. They went straight for the room. I've never been down hall D but it's like I already knew. I took every turn exactly and found my way to the room.

I walked in, a piano was sat in the middle with jack lightly playing. I nervously bit on my lip, he knew I was here. With an abrupt stop to the silky music Jack stood up. His gentle eyes looked into mine. For a second I saw why I thought was hurt. I brushed it off, my imagination makes me believe things.

"Why'd you write the letters?" He quietly asked. His eyes glazing up from the tears threatening to drop. Why was he crying? I nervously bit my lip, Jack was either going to hate me or be willing to my friend.

"It was my source of therapy" I spoke just above a whisper. "I didn't want to go to therapy so I agreed to writing letters." He gulped as did I. Should I continue? He's not speaking or moving. "And I didn't realize how much I thought about you until I started writing those letters."

His eyes softened, the tears still threatening to spill. I wanted to grab his fragile body in my arms but it wasn't the right time. Was it ever going to be right?

"I'm not against you, or gays. But we can't be friends" he looked down. His words punched me in every place possible. It felt like I was going to crumble right there and then. I took a large breath hoping to suppress the tears. I looked up at jack, only now noticing the tears running down his face.

"W-why" I choked out, hoping for some sort of explanation. Whether he was going to give me one was up to him.

"We just can't, Zach. I wish it wasn't like this but we can't" he spoke softly his eyes meeting mine and filling with tears all over again. He wasn't mad, he was broken. We were alike in that department. We both needed healing, but he was my tool to help me heal. I want to know what his tool is.

I nodded "ok" I breathed out. Jack walked around me and left the room. My bag dropped to the floor as I made my way over to the piano. Taking a seat where jack once was I placed my hands on the white keys.

If there was one thing that always made me feel better it was music. My fingers moved gently along the keys playing a nice tune. Closing my eyes I relished the music. I didn't feel at ease, I could only imagine when I walked in and saw Jack playing. It's like his hands were still here, guiding mine.

Without warning I broke down, my elbows landing down in the keys creating an ugly note. Why did this have to happen? I wish I could've stopped the letters before they were sent. But I couldn't.

I walked slowly home that day, not having energy for running or even waking straight.

When I arrived home I skipped dinner. Not even a hello or goodbye to my family I made my way up and locked myself in my room. My mind wandered, into one question kept appearing in my mind.

Why can't jack?

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>Ima start off with saying thank you for 4K reads♥️
>thank you for 100+ followers ♥️
>this story has 3 or 4 chapters left [still deciding how to organize them]
>QUESTION: after the epilogue would you guys like extra fluff chapters just for the fun of it?
>next chapter is a doozy. Literally oof.

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