Beautiful Secrets (Cranksepticeye Fanfiction)

~12.19~ White Christmas

For the rest of the afternoon, he was nowhere to be found. At least, if he was, he wasn't listening. In chemistry, he wasn't there for our quiz on the periodic table.
You're not Dark, Jack. I would know.
In history, he wasn't there while we reenacted the Linclon-Douglas Debate, and Mr. Lee tried to make me argue the Pro-Slavery side, most likely as punishment for some future "liberally minded" paper I was bound to write.
Don't let them get to you like this. They don't matter.
In ASL, he wasn't there while I tried to stand up in front of the class and sign "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" while the rest of the basketball team just sat there, smirking.
I'm not going anywhere, Jack. You can't shut me out.
That's when I realized he could.

By lunch, I couldn't take it anymore. I waited for him to come out of Trig and I pulled him over to the side of the hall, dropping my backpack on the floor. I took his face in my hands, and drew him to me.
Ethan, what are you doing?
This.
I pulled his face into mine with both hands. When our lips touched, I could feel the warmth from my body seep into the coldness of his. I could feel his body melting into mine, the inexplicable pull that had bound us together again. Jack dropped his books and wrapped his arms around my back, responding to my touch. I was becoming light-headed.
The bell rang. He pulled away from me, gasping. I bent down to pick up his copy of Bukowski's Pleasures of the Damned and his battered.spiral notebook. The notebook was.practically falling apart, nut then, he had a lot to write about lately.
You shouldn't have done that.
Why not? You're my boyfriend, and I miss you.
Fifty-four days, Ethan. That's all I have. It's time to stop pretending we can change things. It'll be easier if we both accept it.
There was something about the way he said it, like he was talking about more than just his birthday. He was talking about other things we couldn't change.
He turned away, but I caught his arm before he could turn his back on me. If he was saying what I thought he was saying, I wanted him to look at me when he said it.
"What do you mean, Jack?" I almost couldn't ask.
He looked away. "Ethan, I know you think this can have a happy ending, and for a while maybe I did, too. But we don't live in the same world, and in mine, wanting something badly enough won't make it happen." He wouldn't look at me. "We're just too different."
"Now we're too different? After everything we've been through?" My voice was getting louder. A couple of people turned and stared at me. They didn't even look at Jack.
We are different. You're a Mortal and I'm a Caster, and those worlds might intersect, but they'll never be the same. We aren't meant to live in both.
What he was saying was he wasn't meant to live in both. Emily and Savannah, the basketball team, Mrs. Fischbach, Mr. Harper, the Jackson Angels, they were all finally getting what they wanted.
This is about the disciplinary meeting, isn't it? Don't let them-
It isn't about the meeting. It's everything. I don't belong here, Ethan. And you do.
So now I'm one of them. Is that what you're saying?
He closed his eyes and I could almost see his thoughts, tangled up in his mind.
I'm not saying you're like them, but you are one of them. This is where you've lived your whole life. And after this is over, after I'm Claimed, you're still going to be here. You're going to habe to walk down these halls and those streets again, and I probably won't be there. But you will, for who knows how long, and you said it yourself - people in Anston never forget anything.
Two years.
What?
That's how long I'll be here.
Two years is a long time to be invisible. Trust me, I know.
For a minute, neither of us said anything. He just stood there, pulling shreds of paper from the wire spine of his notebook. "I'm tired of fighting it. I'm tired of trying to pretend I'm normal."
"You can't give up. Not now, not after everything. You can't let them win."
"They already have. They won the day I broke the window in English."
There was something about his voice that told me he was giving up on mire than just Jackson. "Are you breaking up with me?" I was holding my breath.
"Please don't make this harder. It's not what I want, either."
Then don't do it.
I couldn't breath. I couldn't think. It was like time had stopped again, the way it had at Thanksgiving dinner. Only this time, it wasn't magic. It was the opposite of magic.
"I just think things will be easier this way. It doesn't change the way I feel about you." He looked at me, his big blue eyes sparkling with tears. Then he turned and fled down a hallway so quiet you could have heard a pencil drop.
Merry Christmas, Jack.
But there was nothing to hear. He was gone, and that wasn't something I would have been ready for, not in fifty-three days, not in fifty-three years, not in fifty-three centuries.