WAKE (Wattpad edition)

1. How to be happy.

{Jon}

It was Jon's favourite kind of afternoon. After the crowd at church and the pressure to look put together and smile, Kurtis' garage was quiet and safe. It had become the one place he could drop the act of responsible oldest child and just be Jon. He dropped into his favourite chair, making the squishy leather seat creak. "Who else is coming?" He glanced at Kurtis, who was dragging his dress shirt over his head and slinging it over the back of the couch.

"Dunno." Kurtis shrugged his T-shirt on straight and stretched full length on the couch with a groan. "What a long fucking morning. Your dad could've cut 10 minutes off his sermon, and no one would've missed it."

Jon's mouth quirked. It hadn't taken long to discover that Kurtis wasn't half as clean cut as he looked leading worship. "Well, your dad could have been less of an ass making that membership announcement," he shot back.

"Too fucking true." Kurtis had his hand spread over his face, and he opened his fingers so Jon could see one blue eye squinting in amusement. "How'd you like the intro I made for the new song?"

"Awesome," Jon said sincerely. "You never thought of making a band?"

His friend's long breath made his flat stomach rise and fall under his shirt. "Nah—can't. Football takes all my time. And training with my dad in the off season. He's got it in his head I'm getting a full ride on a football scholarship somewhere. He'd never let me take time off for something prissy like music." He made a soft noise in his throat. "His word, not mine."

Jon reached for his guitar, on a stand next to Kurtis', pulling its comforting weight against his body. He made the shape with his fingers for a C-chord, then a G, pressing hard until his fingertips stung. "You like football?"

"Sure—it's all right," Kurtis said, his voice muffled by his hand. "I guess I'm good at it."

Jon made a hollow-sounding chord and winced. The guitar sounded dead in his hands—as bad as it had when he'd first started playing years ago. "You're good at guitar, too. Better than me." He opened and closed his hand, breathing in through his nose.

"You'll get it back. Here." Kurtis sat up and put his hand over Jon's on the neck of the guitar, adjusting the angle of his fingers. "Try that."

Jon swallowed, stroking the strings. It did sound better, a little.

"How long since you broke your ribs?"

"Eight weeks," Jon muttered. "Feels like fucking forever." He set his guitar aside and got up, stretching gingerly. The doctor had said he was supposed to be done with the pain meds, but he could still feel his ribs aching. He wandered to the mini fridge, digging the extra pills from his pocket before washing them down.

Behind him, Kurtis started to fiddle with his guitar, his fingers twice as fast as Jon's on a good day. Jon watched his bent head, touching his fingertips together where Kurtis had given him what had felt like an electric shock. For a second, the person he was supposed to be pressed painfully against his throat, like the collar of a shirt that was too tight. He pulled his eyes away, dragging himself past the moment onto a subject that was permitted. "I didn't see Kadee in church. Is she coming over today?"

Kurtis shrugged. "Doubt it. We broke up." The guitar made a jangled sound, and he grimaced and set it aside.

Jon's eyebrows lifted. "Oh—sorry. Didn't see that coming."

Kurtis got to his feet, ambling over to join Jon beside the mini fridge. "She was kind of getting too serious, you know?"

"Uh huh," Jon said faintly.

Kurtis dropped his eyes, his fingers twisting the tab of his Coke can. "She just kept pushing—like all we did anymore was make out. We're both worship leaders—it doesn't look good if she has her hands all over me." Jon blinked at the image, his face heating. Kurtis cracked the can and took a long slug. "Plus, my dad was on me to end it." His shoulders slumped a little. "Says I gotta focus on my last year of high school ball. My one shot."

Jon breathed out softly, recognizing the sound of someone covering up and making do. "Sorry, Kurt," he said quietly.

Kurtis dapped Jon's shoulder with his fist. "It's what we do, right? Keep them happy 'til we're out on our own."

Jon laughed once, drily. "Too fucking true."

Kurtis flashed him a twisted smile, his eyes electric blue and wry. Somehow, he never lost his cool. "This is why I like you, White. You get it."

There was a rap on the door and three guys piled in with a stack of warm pizza boxes, followed by a handful of girls Jon recognized from Kadee's friend group. They surrounded and included him so he was just one more friend laughing over slices of pizza, and he was glad to blend in. He dug out a spot on the couch to tip his head back and just float for a bit.

He couldn't think of the last time he'd felt as good as he had this summer—maybe before they moved, before things got hard and complicated, when he was just an innocent little kid hanging out with his old friends. It helped that he'd been out of the house most days, where the weight of Judah's role, that he was expected to fill, weighed on him like a lead suit he wore for his family. His pills not only erased the pain in his chest; they made him feel like he was a hundred pounds lighter—like he was good and everyone liked him. He couldn't believe he'd spent so long before this being miserable and worrying what everyone thought when it was actually so easy to just forget it and be happy.

*Finally a glimpse into Kurt and Jon's relationship in high school! What do you think is going on for Kurt in this scene? For Jon? What do you think about the way Jon's going after happiness right now?

As I wrote For Us, I realized I needed to change the spelling of Curt's name to Kurt for clarity on the page. I'm partway through making those changes here in the Scars trilogy. Sorry for any confusion!*