Content Warnings: Mentions of suicide.
Author's note: I am so sorry for ending the last chapter like that and for the late update. Hopefully I didn't leave you guys in too much anticipation.
I'm really not happy with this chapter, like I kind of hate it - I worked on it all day so you guys wouldn't have to wait any longer. Here it is - hope you enjoy!
Chapter 21: Did I Jasper Your Opinion?
"No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart."
- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
Chance
His lips were warm and supple against mine. His mouth tasted vaguely of coffee (a fact I would cherish forever) and his sweater was soft beneath my fingertips.
For a few moments, he just sat, stunned, as I embraced him.
But after a few seconds, I could feel a deft pressure on my lips as he kissed back.
And it was heavenly.
Blood rushed in my ears as my head spun with dizziness. My hand pushed lightly against where I had placed it on the smaller boy's waist. Callaway responded with ease, his own hand raising up to caress my neck. His palm was warm and steady against my skin. At his gesture of enthusiasm, I used my unoccupied hand to tug him into my lap, an act proving easy due to his small frame. The closer proximity did nothing to aid my pulsating heart as it thumped wildly in my chest.
My mind was barren of any other thought except for: Callaway.
That is, until he pulled away.
Soft lips abandoned me as he pulled his weight off of my lap. The loss of warmth from his body was immediately noticeable.
I sat in shock of what had happened, staring, eyes lidded as my breath came out in huffs. I could barely focus on my surroundings, getting lost within the folds of my thoughts; attempting to find means of conserving the memory. I was certain it would never happen again, so I wanted to remember it with perfect accuracy.
My eyes could do little more than stay fixed on the flushed face of the boy I adored. My gaze trailed across the pale skin of his face with admiration. As I observed, I took into consideration the slight pink dusting his cheeks, giving away his otherwise unaffected look.
"That's an odd way to deal with loss."
The remark startled me out of my stupor. My gaze narrowed on Callaway's eyes as I tried to comprehend what he said.
Still out of it, I slurred, "Loss?"
Callaway looked at me, face stricken with alarm.
I watched him with what little consciousness I had as he muttered, "Yes, loss." At my discernibly blank look, Callaway clarified, "Your mother, Chance."
Even in my post-kiss haze, the words spiked incredulity within me, getting all my attention.
"My - my mom?" I gasped, trying to regain my thoughts. "Who told you about that?"
I received an absent look from the boy still only a mere inches from me. "I already disclosed that - Aly told me."
I gaped at him, totally disoriented as I proclaimed, "But that was a long time ago, Callaway." My eyes bore into his with an utter ferocity. "I was three."
Callaway, still ever nonchalant, looked at me with doubt. He insisted, "I'm not connoting the occurrence of your mother abandoning you when you were a child. I'm talking about..." Callaway trailed off, eyes flitting around in clear discomfort
I squinted in suspicion. "'Talking about' what?"
Callaway's unease heightened as he realized he would have to explain himself for me to understand anything that was going on.
He pulled at the sleeve of his sweater, a habitual tendency, but his eyes did not meet mine. "Today, Aly had informed me of the recent," he paused, breathing in, "passing of your mother."
I sat in shock of the information that was just admitted. I tried to process it with what small amount of intellectual capability I had left. But I was at a loss.
My eyes were wide as I spoke, "My mom - She's not...dead. "
There was a conspicuous moment of utter silence. Callaway and I both stared in disbelief at each other's admittances.
"What?" Callaway broke the silence, jaw dropped open, fallen slack."Then what is the explanation for your anomalistic demeanor?"
"Clarify," I spoke, uncertain of the question being asked.
In other words: what the hell did anomalistic mean?
Callaway shook his head, annoyed before complying. "You've been acting really fucking weird. And I assumed that it was from the alleged death of you mother."
My eyes fluttered across Callaway's face as he ascended into further anger.
"Well good news," I smiled, trying to relieve the tension in the room. "My mom's not dead."
Callaway looked at me for a moment, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I'd presume there's an additional explanation to your ostensible 'news'. Am I correct?"
"Yeah, you're right." I gave Callaway a sheepish look, completely aware of the inevitable conclusion to this conversation. "There's a real reason for my behavior."
Callaway's head perked in attentiveness at the words. "Alright, specify."
I sighed deeply, dreading what I had to do. "I'm kind of ..." I trailed off, suddenly very interested in staring at my hands, instead of the boy in front of me.
Callaway gave me an exasperated look. "'Kind of'?" He mimicked, urging me to continue.
I gave him a pained expression, biting my lips. He only grimaced harder.
"In love with you."
And though the words left my mouth as no more than a murmur, the sound of the sentence echoed through the room like a gunshot.
"You're fucking kidding."
"What?" I asked, all of a sudden annoyed with him. "You thought that kiss was platonic? Are you dumb?"
Callaway exasperated, "No. I have a disorder that disconnects me from habitual human emotion." He huffed, "Completely different thing."
I frowned, eyes still concentrated on my hands. "Sorry - yeah, I know." I scratched at my neck, sighing, "That was uncalled for. I apologize."
Callaway nodded in comprehension, eyes lilting towards mine. I refused to meet them, instead letting the silence suffocate me.
"You love me?" Callaway inquired, seeming bewildered.
I stared at him for a moment, face blank as I took in the boy in front of me. His lips were unfurled, eyes flickering aimlessly around the room in imminent unease.
Did the world hate me?
"Um - yeah." I coughed, playing with hands to distract from the situation at hand. "Please don't make me admit it again."
Callaway said nothing, face frozen in a indiscernible expression. His green eyes were as wide as the moon as he gazed. Though his eyes were fixed on me, I knew he was far from the present moment.
"Why?"
The inquiry startled me as it left Callaway's lips. His eyes seemed attentive, truly interested in an answer to his ambiguous question.
I expected a lot of things when I reluctantly admitted to my affections towards Callaway. I expected incomprehension, anger, pity, laughter, hatred. Anything but what actually happened:
Callaway was curious. To him, I was no more than a particularly interesting puzzle for him to figure out. I didn't know whether it was better or worse.
I tried not to dwell on my forlorn thoughts, instead dragging myself back to the harsh conditions of reality.
I cleared my throat. "I can't say that I know the answer to that myself." I sighed, "I just love you."
Callaway frowned, muttering, "I don't believe you."
I almost choked on my own spit. "What?"
Callaway's eyes were distant, focused on an unspecified point beyond my shoulder.
"It's completely illogical," Callaway spoke, robotic sounding. "So I believe you're misleading me."
"Callaway - I," I took in a shaky breath," I just told you I love you and you think I'm lying?"
Callaway was still, face impassive. Almost inhuman. I could do nothing as the boy in front of me descended into wordy chaos.
"The first reason for which I am wary of your admission is because of time," Callaway explained, voice firm and steady. He seemed certain of his accusation. "Your peculiar behavior commenced three days ago - Monday. We've known one another for a mere three weeks. From my knowledge, that is an utterly extreme amount of time to fall in love. Hence my skepticism."
"My second reason is in relation to the unmitigated hatred between us at the beginning of those three weeks." Callaway paused for a moment, before his eyes finally met mine. "You hated me, Chance, as I hated you. And though that keen abhorrence is no longer reality, it simply seems unrealistic for you to have fallen in love with me. The sudden change in emotions is concerning."
"The third reason has to do with me," Callaway still spoke with ferocity. Surprising as I knew of the absolute atrocities of what was to come. "I'm a mess."
My mouth snapped open, as I tried to interrupt him. I wanted nothing more to contradict whatever was going to leave his lips, but I was too slow.
Callaway continued, but now, anger was finding its way in the folds of his face. "I suffer from acute alcoholism. I'm intoxicated most nights. Not even at parties - just solitarily in my bedroom."
I didn't even try to stop him, knowing that it would ignite greater consequences if I tried to oppose his opinions.
"I'm demented - one bad choice from my condition developing into full fledged psychopath," he growled.
"I'm a terrible person, Chance." Callaway's eyes peered into my face with an undeniable intensity. "I'm not even pleasant to be around. How could you love me?"
The truth: I didn't have an answer.
For a moment, the dark haired boy just stared at me in silent question. I did little more than hits gape back, unsure of how to convey my thoughts.
"I can't even explain it myself, Callaway. I just do," I sighed. "And it's only been a few days, but even then, it's so painful."
I sat for an instant, wallowing in my thoughts and surveying the room around me. I watched as the dark haired boy watched me, indeterminable look in his eyes.
"Callaway, I -"
"Leave."
I could feel my heart stop. "What?"
I watched the boy in front of me with rapt attention, head pounding as I tried to makes sense of the predicament.
"I said leave," he repeated, voice firm and unquestionable.
The words hit me with painful force, piercing the thin skin of my mind.
"Callaway, listen -"
The shorter boy waved me off with a curt swing of his hand. "I don't know how to...process this, all right? I've never...dealt with anything like this before. I -" He closed his eyes, clenching his jaw. "I need you to leave."
I could feel my world shattering as I choked out a small, "Okay."
I gave the boy before one last heartbroken look before standing.
I grabbed my backpack with a swift swing of my arms.
And I left.
While feeling as though I was leaving my whole essence in Callaway's hands.
Callaway
Fuck.
I made one friend - one friend - and this was what happened.
And the problem wasn't even within the fact that Chance had developed more than amicable feelings towards me.
The problem was that I liked the fact that he loved me.
Chance loved me.
And it felt wonderful. Yes, it was selfish to think so, but I never claimed to be selfless.
I shouldn't have been surprised. As diagnosed with mild sociopathy, it was in my nature to thrive upon the attention people devoted to me. But still, the concept of someone being infatuated with me was totally foreign. Logically, it didn't make sense. I was totally aware that none of my character traits were appealing; nothing about my demeanor and method of life was pleasant. And so Chance's alleged love for me seemed unwarranted, though not unwanted.
But the true problem at hand was far more influential than a mere reassurance that I was still clinically diagnosed as a prick. The real problem:
What was I going to do?
Chance was a painfully emotional person. Whatever I did would dictate the progression (or termination) of my relationship with him. And, disgustingly, I found I had no desire to lose his friendship.
So my original plan of ignoring him until he stopped doing ... feelings wasn't going to work.
But that left me with little left to do.
Chance was simply so unattainably perfect. He was intelligent, annoyingly humorous, and he was unbelievably kind.
He knew about my copious mess of flaws - my perpetual string of disfigurements and disorders.
But he loved me anyway.
And I wanted to reciprocate the feeling.
I really did.
But I didn't know how.
As I roamed through the vast barrenness of my mind, trying to pinpoint an answer or a solution, I was interrupted by the sharp tone of my cell phone.
I grumbled at the interruption. I deftly stretched out an arm to my nightstand, grasping the small device within my palm. The illuminated screen of my phone was almost painful as it met my eyes.
Jasper the unfriendly ghost: Come down stairs.
I rolled my eyes at the message.
"No!" I called out to my room, knowing that my brother would surely hear me. "I'm busy!"
"It's important!" Jasper bellowed from wherever he was.
I shook my head. "I highly doubt it!"
"Cal!" Jasper's voice echoed through the house with distinct force.
I huffed at myself, getting up from my position on my bed and shuffling towards the hall. I spared a glance behind me, mind racing back to the situation that had just occurred. I ambled down the stairs with an absence; my mind was pervading with ideas. I hardly even noticed as I found myself in the dark light of the basement.
I stared blankly at the back wall of the large room. I didn't even bother to glance at the sprawled figure beside me as I sat down on the couch closest to the doorway.
I could see my brother's head turn towards me in my peripheral vision.
"Are you doing okay?" His voice dripped of an odd concern.
He was asking if I was okay?
I refused to deal with this.
I stood up to leave, shaking my head at my brother's idiocy.
"No, Cal - wait," Jasper slurred, sitting up from his reclined position. "Just - wait."
I rolled my eyes as viciously as I could, sitting back down. Though, this time I sat a touch further from my sibling.
"What do you want?" I snapped, peering at the clock on the wall.
My gaze flickered to Jasper's for a moment and I was met with a concerned frown.
Suddenly, I was fearful of the motives for my brothers sudden interest in talking to me. This new nice Jasper was wholly foreign to me. I had no choice to be skeptical.
Jasper scratched at his neck, almost nervous. "So I was in the kitchen, just grabbing myself some snacks and whatever, when I hear someone scrambling down the stairs," Jasper explained, staring at the can in his grasp. "I stick my head out, wanting to see who it is and - of course - I see blondie storming out of of the house in tears." Jasper sighed, "And all I can think to myself is 'What the fuck did my brother say to his boyfriend?' And here we are."
I surveyed as Jasper smiled thinly.
"He's not my boyfriend - "
"Okay - friend, whatever, " Jasper agreed. "All I want to know is...what did you do?"
My head whipped up in annoyance. "Why do you always assume I did something wrong?"
Jasper shrugged at me, a gesture made awkward by his relaxed posture. "I'm sorry for assuming that the sociopath was the one who hurt someone's feelings."
I grumbled at my brother, "I didn't hurt his feelings."
"Tears, Callaway," Jasper asserted. "The poor boy was in tears. "
"I doubt it."
Jasper scrunched his nose at me. "Okay - maybe not tears but he was really distressed." He paused for a second before uttering, "Explain."
"No," I retorted.
"Come on Cal!" Jasper huffed at me.
"No," I repeated, tone growing even more vicious.
Jasper exasperated, "If this is about your sexuality then -"
"Stop talking about my sexuality."
"I just want you to know that I don't care that - I mean... if you're gay."
"I know," I sighed, dejected. "You know that I..." I trailed off, leaving my vague utterance to interpretation.
I was hoping my brother would understand the insinuation behind my ambiguity. And judging my the soft smile that adorned his face, he did.
It didn't shock me that Jasper had been aware of my sexuality. In fact, I was certain that my whole family knew and my parents were attempting their absolute best to ignore it - in hopes that it might simply disappear. I was confident that my parents were not quite proud of my inevitable development of mental issues and homosexuality. But I liked to believe that it was under their responsibility for having raised me in such a manner. Gay sociopath - every parent's dream.
I begrudgingly brought my attention back to the situation at hand as my eyes found my brother's face. I contemplated the consequences of telling my brother the details of my situation with Chance; the only thing I'd be doing would be confirming his prior suspicions. That wouldn't cause much harm, so I told him the truth.
"He kissed me"
"Chance?" Jasper's face lit up in a mixture of delight and surprise. "Nice!"
My frowned deepened as Jasper raised his palm to high five me. I ignored it. Jasper let his hand drop to his lap, looking offended at my non-compliance to the friendly gesture.
"Okay - but that doesn't explain why you made him cry," Jasper speculated, perturbed.
My gaze flickered around the room in a lost attempt to gather my thoughts. My gaze focused on my reflection on the glossy screen of the television. The boy in the gleam of the screen was almost unrecognizable to me; for once in my transient existence, I felt vulnerable.
I sighed, too enervated to oppose. "He told me he loved me."
I could perceive the hushed sound of Jasper choking on his soda.
"Holy shit - really?" Jasper cried out, sitting up. His face glistened with the unmistakeable view of a bright smile. "That's amazing!"
I did no more than flash him a blank look.
Jasper's prior smile flickered. "Does he know about...?" He made an odd hand gesture.
"He knows everything," I murmured, hoping he would understand the obscure implication.
Jasper's mouth gaped astonishingly wide. "Holy shit."
"You may have said that," I grumbled at him.
Jasper just smiled in disbelief. "Callaway - you gotta keep this guy."
I clenched my jaw, vexed.
Realization set into Jasper's features at my expression. His smile dissipated in a brief instant. "Wait - what did you say to him?"
"Why is that important?" I barked, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.
Jasper frowned, growing unwelcomely concerned once more. "Callaway... What did you say to him?"
Jasper's question floated through the room with a deft heaviness, palpable within the air.
"I - I told him to leave," I admitted.
For a moment, there was silence as my brother processed what I said.
Once reality finally materialized in his mind, Jasper gasped, "Oh my god." Jasper covered his eyes with his hands. "Callaway - why?"
Fury burst within my chest as I got up to leave once again. I was not going to sustain the discussion with my sibling if he was going to unceasingly deride and ridicule the situation that I was already ashamed of. My feet scuffed against the carpeted floor of the basement and in a few rapid steps, I was almost to the door.
"Cal!" Jasper's voice called from behind me. "Wait - I'm sorry."
I turned my body, growling at Jasper, "What is going on? Why do you suddenly care?" Anger coated every syllable of my words as I barked, "You've never cared about me. Why start now?"
The question struck evident shock in Jasper as it slipped from my tongue. I was aware of my fallaciousness, but I couldn't find it within myself to care.
Jasper frowned morosely at me from across the room, eyes blinking in succession. "Ever since last year I..."
Last year.
He didn't mean?
That's why he was being nice to me?
"Don't you dare bring last year into this," I snapped, tempestuousness blistering within my lungs.
My frame was igniting with a coercive rage. My fingertips stung with the pooling heat within them. My brother shot me an anguished look as he stood, walking over to me.
I stayed unmoving as Jasper's hand came to settle on my shoulder. The contact was comprehensively unpleasant but I withstood it due to the circumstances.
"It was my fault," Jasper acquiesced. "I was never there when you needed me to be and -"
"You still aren't," I hissed, prodding the intruding palm off my shoulder.
Jasper's hand dropped to his side dejectedly. I observed as his lips quivered, face contorting in further affliction.
"I know - I know and I'm ashamed," Jasper spoke, hushed. "That's why I want to help you now."
"I don't want your support," I spoke through clenched teeth.
Jasper dragged an absent hand through his hair. "It doesn't matter if you don't want it. What matters is that you need it."
"You haven't been around for years, Jasper. What makes you think that I need you?" I spat, voice rough with agitation.
"I found you half dead, Callaway!" My brother bellowed. "I was out at a fucking party and I come back to my little brother lying unconscious in the bathroom."
"I can hardly live with myself," Jasper croaked. "Knowing that I played a part in your attempted suicide."
I surveyed in horror as my sibling's eyes glistened with despondency. A trifling fear surfaced in my mind; I didn't know what I would do if Jasper commenced crying. I hoped that the situation would not arise.
Jasper reserved a moment in order to regain his composure.
"You deserve so much better than this," he murmured.
I scoffed, "I don't deserve anything."
Jasper ignored me, asserting, "You deserve someone like Chance."
"You don't even know him," I retorted, venomous.
"No, I don't," Jasper laughed darkly. "But I know he loves you and ... that's enough.
"I know you have ASPD and you're 'a robot who can't love' and blah blah blah," Jasper rambled. "But the boy loves you, Callaway - psychopathy and all. And love is always worth a try."
What did he know about love?
It was then that I stormed out of the room, leaving my brother alone in its dark confines.
But that last sentence he had uttered haunted me even after I had left my brother's presence.
It drifted through my mind like a kite in the wind. But gradually, the luminescent blue of the sunny day descended into the capricious chaos of a thunderstorm.
Rain pinpricked against the wrinkles of my mind.
Ruinous wind jumbled my thoughts, leaving everything incoherent.
Thunder pounded with the time of my thrashing heart.
And lightning flashed behind my eyes as I stared at the luminous screen of of my phone.
The kite was getting destroyed in the fervent tumult of the storm in my mind, threatening to take me with it as I had looped it around the skin of my wrist. The kite's string chafed against my wrist with aching force. If I didn't act soon, the kite would take me into the nebulous chaos of my mind.
If I didn't do something, my brothers advice would make me truly insane.
So I had no option but the cut the rope of the kite.
Messages sent to Chance :) at 12:17 pm.
You: The truth is that I've never loved anybody.
You: I've never wanted to love anybody.
You: But I want to love you.
_______________
Author's note 2.0: Hope you enjoyed this chapter and if you don't get the chapter title it's like: 'Did I ask for your opinion?' But with 'Jasper'.
It's so stupid, I'm sorry. But coming up with puns with the name 'Jasper' is hard.