He tried so hard not to think of it; to think of anything else. His mind wandered from school to his Super Nintendo game to his homework back to school to painful memories to a life he no longer had back to the present. Then it was Jack Merridew all over again. Emma. The dance. Right now. Jack and Emma at the dance.
Goddamnit.
Ralph was bored to tears. His father was down in the basement watching the basketball game with a few work buddies he invited over. His mother, bless her heart, was in the middle of baking dozens upon dozens of cookies for the bake sale at Ralph's school on Monday. Ralph sat on the couch, playing Mariokart for the 23rd race in a row. He thought about making a plan with Sam and Eric but given the forty five minute distance between their houses, it wasn't likely to happen.
Ralph wandered into the kitchen and breathed in the joyous scent of his mom's fresh cookie dough and homemade icing.
"Can I help?" Ralph asked politely as his stomach knotted up. He wouldn't be able to take more than a bite or two without getting nauseous, but he used to enjoy baking with his mom before the island; before his diet was poisoned by a tropical survival diet.
"Course you can, baby. Want to make another batch of icing?" his mother suggested.
"You bet" Ralph agreed, and began following the hand written recipe card on the counter. Almost all their recipes came directly from Laurie's mom's self-made cookbook. She had been both a chef and a baker in her day, and up until the island, Ralph had swooned over every baked good she ever made.
After an hour, and clothes covered in flour and sugar, Ralph was exhausted. Laurie insisted that they call it a day and finish making the rest tomorrow or Sunday. Ralph tiredly agreed, and offered to clean up the kitchen for his mom.
"Aren't you just a gift?" she kissed him swiftly on the head before she left the disastrous kitchen for the boy to attend to.
Truth be told, Ralph had been being extra gift-like since he snapped at his dad the night before. Jeffery had made his way to bed last night and told his wife about Ralph's unusual outburst, hoping he wasn't entering the terrible teen years early. She wasn't convinced that something deeper wasn't going on, but by the next morning, it was clear that whatever had set Ralph off, he was real sorry about it now.
Ralph started sealing open bags of flour, sugar, baking soda, sprinkles and other baking ingredients, shoving the half full bags and containers back into their respective places in the pantry. His clothes were filthy by this point and Ralph realized he'd have to shower tonight to avoid making his bedroom floor look like the kitchen counter of Betty Crocker. As he wet a cloth to begin wiping down all the powder-covered surfaces, there was a quiet but still apparent knock at the door.
Ralph glanced down the hallway to see if either of his parents heard the door, but all was still and quiet. He sighed as he set down the wet cloth and approached the door. It wasn't late; only just after 2030 hours. Ralph somewhat reluctantly opened the door, relieved to see it wasn't totally dark out yet.
But relief wasn't the emotion that paced through Ralph's body when he saw Jack at his door, dressed like he was on his way to pick up Cinderella in a giant pumpkin. Before Ralph could speak, he noticed that Jack's eyes were glassy and he had tear streaks stained down his face. He looked desperate, like he was looking right through Ralph for something. Ralph's first thought was that Evan hit Jack again, perhaps in front of Emma, but the brunette couldn't see a noticeable mark on the boy's face or neck.
"What are you doing here?" Ralph asked with concern, but clearly still bothered by the blond's presence. They hadn't seen or spoken to each other since the night of the festival.
"I... I didn't know where else to go" Jack's broken, pain-stricken voice came through tears.
Ralph didn't know what to say, or what to do for that matter. He wasn't sure what Jack expected of him. Perhaps he ran off after deciding he couldn't put up with his father's abuse anymore. Did he really think Ralph would want to see him, or even be willing to for that matter?
"Uh, okay, just come in" Ralph insisted uncomfortably, stepping back to let Jack inside. Ralph closed the door behind the boy, and stared at his fancy suit and slicked back hair. "What's going on?" he asked flatly, folding his arms over his powder-covered chest.
"I can't go on like this" Jack vaguely declared, his voice shaking through his words. He was a mess, Ralph could see, but he still had no idea what about.
"Like what? Did your dad—"
"No" Jack cut in. "This isn't about him" he sniffled.
"Then what is it about? Why are you here, Jack, of all the places you could've gone?" Ralph was losing his patience, and frankly, his sympathy.
"Because I..." he trailed off, dropping his head in shame and exhaustion. "I needed to talk to you."
Ralph sighed heavily, resisting the urge to throw his head back in frustration. "Look Jack, I know you're upset, but I can't be that person for you anymore. You can't keep running here, to me, every time you have a problem."
"You are the problem" Jack's voice rose a little, and Ralph started to panic at the thought of his parents hearing and coming to check on him.
"What are you talking about?" Ralph practically whispered in hopes that Jack would lower his volume too.
"I can't lie anymore, I can't keep pretending, I just can't. It's too hard. I know I'm better than this, well at least stronger than this, but I just... I'm tired. I'm tired of living in this stupid world where you have to keep your head on straight and your uniform on properly and your behavior in check. All the fucking time! I can't do it anymore. I don't want to pretend to care about school, letting the sound of a bell tell me when I can and can't leave a room, letting my dad's fist tell me what I can and can't say, letting my sister decide what fancy shit we're all eating for dinner every night, following some stupid, repetitive routine that makes me wanna rip my hair out of my head. I'm sick of it, all of it, and most of all I'm sick of pretending I don't care about you, or love you, or whatever. I'm tired of making choices based on what other people think and want. I can't do it, Ralph, I can't live like this anymore, not after..."
Ralph stood in silence and listened to Jack rant and cry, his voice becoming shakier and less comprehensible with each messy word. Ralph's eyes were wide, but his expression was unreadable as he tried to process all that Jack was saying. He thought mostly about the island as the boy spoke, about how Jack thrived out there, at least on an emotional level. Perhaps, he'd always felt trapped by the rules of life, of his father, of every vigorous school that called him problematic, undisciplined, misbehaved. On the island, he was free of all of that. We have it made he had said to Ralph when they were alone out there. Ralph never saw it that way, but perhaps, Jack really did. Perhaps, while everyone else had struggled to adjust to life on the island, Jack was still struggling to readjust to life after it.
Ralph didn't know what else to do, and he wanted Jack to just stop spiraling. No, he needed Jack to stop spiraling. It was too hard to watch; it felt like someone was twisting a wrench in Ralph's gut, threatening him until he gave in. So Ralph gave in, stepping forward and pulling the blond boy into his arms, holding him tightly.
"I know" Ralph whispered tenderly, pressing Jack's body tightly against his own. He ran his hand through Jack's gel-hardened hair, down his neck and acrosss his back repeatedly until he slowly started to calm down. He still lightly shook in Ralph's arms as his body recovered from its heightened emotional state. Ralph shushed him comfortingly, letting the motions of his hands and voice calm Jack until he was ready to part from him.
"I'm sorry" Jack sniffled, stepping back so he could see Ralph clearly. "You're right, I shouldn't've come here."
"It's okay" Ralph insisted, though only partially genuinely. "Aren't you supposed to be at the dance right now?"
"How'd you know about that?" Jack asked in a groggy voice, evidently alarmed. Perhaps, he never intended for Ralph to find out about it.
"My dad told me" Ralph revealed. "Plus" he added, gesturing up and down at Jack's attire.
"Oh" Jack realized, dropping his head as he felt a raging headache coming on. "I didn't go in. I couldn't" he began to explain.
"What happened?" Ralph wondered curiously. "Do you want something to drink?" he added as he returned to the messy kitchen.
"Water?" Jack asked, following a few feet behind Ralph, but stopped to maintain his distance.
"Course" Ralph agreed, reaching up in the cupboard to grab a water glass.
"I just couldn't do it" Jack started to say.
"Do what?"
"The dance. I can't keep this up anymore. I thought I could, but I'm tired of pretending all the fucking time" Jack admitted frustratedly, more calmly this time, but still obviously upset of course.
"Who's asking you to?" Ralph inquired.
"Everybody" Jack broadly declared.
"Not everybody" Ralph countered, handing him the glass of water.
"You're right" Jack said after a quiet moment as he took the glass. "It's always been you."
"What?" Ralph scrunched his eyebrows, a surprised and confused look on his face.
"You're the only person who doesn't expect anything of me" Jack declared softly. "You've never asked me to be something I'm not. Just the opposite, really. You know me, and even though I'm not the type of person people tend to love, like really love for real, you do. I don't get why you do, but I know you still do. I've never felt like I had to pretend with you, at least not since we got off the island. I love you, and even though you've never said it, I know you love me too."
Jack's voice was uncharacteristically gentle and vulnerable, causing a difficult conflict to settle in Ralph's stomach. He was still mad at Jack, but the natural response his body had to the sound of Jack's words made it feel like his body was betraying his broken heart.
"Jack" saying his name made Ralph's heart skip a beat, but he pushed on against his will. "I told you I can't keep doing this with you. You're here right now, sucked in by how connected we are and how good it feels, but tomorrow you'll be torn by the rules of society that tell you you can't be with me. I love you too, I really do, more than you'll ever know, but I can't go back to the way things were. This back and forth stuff with you isn't good for me. You're hurting me, Jack, everytime you hold me and make me feel like I'm on top of the world. Then you go and hold Emma's hand in public, and lie about the reasons we fight, and the reason you care so much when I'm hurt or sick. You have no idea how much it hurts everytime you leave here, knowing you're going home to hold someone else the way you hold me. I always wondered when you were finally gonna stop showing up. I couldn't sleep, or think straight, I never felt okay. I always worry about you, about Emma, about us. It hurts too much, Jack. And I'm sorry that you're hurting too, that readjusting to being home is so hard for you. Trust me when I say I'd do almost anything to take that pain away from you, but I can't do this. I'm sorry, but I really mean it this time."
Ralph was crying too by the time he'd finished pouring out the truth, as hard as it was to do. He felt like his skin was on fire and his insides were turning into jelly. Part of his heart was begging him to take it all back; to hold Jack and never let him go, but he couldn't. Ralph had to be stronger than he ever thought he could be.
"I know" Jack agreed hoarsely, steady tears trickling slowly down his face too. "I can't go back to the way things were either. It's too late for that anyway."
"What are you talking about?" Ralph wondered, struggling to refrain from remaining too invested.
"I broke up with Emma."