Word count: 6586 words.
[Warning] Reader discretion is advised. Story contains a main character who swears an excessive amount.
Written between Dec. 29th and Dec. 30th, 2016. (I was up from 11 PM to 6 AM, so enjoy.)
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The first time I met Jayce Bryant was in the sixth grade. His family had just moved to town and his younger brother, Jared, was in the same grade as me. Jared and I shared most of our classes together, and we quickly became friends over a game of soccer during lunch. One day after school, I was supposed to be going home with Jared so that we could hangout at his house. His mom had pulled up to the curb in her small, grey SUV, and Jared and I piled into the backseat, with Jared sitting behind his mom and me sitting behind the passenger seat. It wasn't until I was buckled and the car was moving that I realized there was someone sitting in the seat in front of me.
The guy had black hair, like a charcoal black, but it looked soft, and it fell in his face and poked out in random directions. It reminded me of the typical emo-style haircut I saw on TV. He wore a dark hoody and dark jeans, with his arms crossed over his chest while he slouched in his seat and stared out the window. In his ears, I spotted two black and silver earbuds, with their cords trailing down his body until it disappeared in his hoody pocket. His skin was pale, and speckled with a bit of acne on the little bit of his face I could see from where I sat. I wondered if he ever went outside, or if he just couldn't tan. Looking at his brother, whose skin was a nice, healthy tanned colour from playing outside so much, I assumed it was the first. He appeared thin and lanky, though it was hard to tell while he was sitting down. If he had have been any other kid at school, I would have said he would have been an easy target for bullies, given his skinny appearance, but the way he held himself . . . The way he sat, uncaring to the world around him . . . I found myself in awe of him.
The moment our eyes locked in the side-mirror, my breath caught in my throat and my cheeks warmed a little in embarrassment at catching the gaze of a stranger. His eyes were a bright, electric blue, outlined in a deep navy blue. They were intense to look at, yet despite the beautiful colour, they were hard and piercing. I looked away first, turning my gaze to my new best friend, whose eyes didn't match those of the boy's in front of me. His eyes were navy blue, with bits of green mixed in. They didn't burn into me, like the other boy's eyes, either.
"That's Jayce, my brother," Jared had introduced, nodding his head toward the passenger seat where Jayce sat. "He's in the ninth grade."
Jayce had never said a word, or even made a move to acknowledge the introduction. For the rest of the ride to their house, he had stared out the window and ignored everything else around him. I found it oddly fascinating how he could do that.
Four years later, and I found myself sitting in Jared's bedroom, playing a game on his Xbox 360 with him and our other friend, Leon. We sat on bean bag chairs in front of the TV, controllers in our hands. So far Leon was winning, his thick fingers quickly stabbing at the buttons and jerking the thumb pads around so quickly, they made a snapping, cracking sound each time he whipped them from side-to-side. I honestly wondered if he was going to break the controller.
"Argh! You asshole, you did that on purpose!" Jared suddenly shouted, roughly shoving Leon on the shoulder. All the while, Jared's car faced the wrong way from Leon crashing into the side of Jared's car with his own, and forcing Jared to try to right himself and evidently managing to spin himself out in the process.
Leon grinned as he crossed the finish line.
"You're just a sore loser, Jared. You don't hear Matt complaining, do you?" Leon retorted, a huge, smug smile on his face.
Jared stood from his bean bag and threw his controller down on it as he turned to face Leon. "Because Matt is too much of a wimp to complain about anything, and besides, he always loses. You cheated, just admit it."
"Geez, thanks a lot man," I grumbled, narrowing my eyes at my so-called best friend.
Jared shot me a sheepish smile. "Sorry, but it's kinda true."
"Whatever, just don't drag me into your guys's fight," I told him.
"I'm not fighting, jerk-face over here just doesn't know true talent when he sees it," Leon explained, running a hand through his curly, carrot locks.
Jared snorted. "What talent? You smashed your car into mine and made me spin out."
"You spun out on your own. Not my fault you're not a good driver."
"Why you-"
While they continued their arguing, I stood up and quietly made my escape, not wanting to have to play referee like usual. Outside in the hallway, their voices were muffled with the bedroom door closed. I breathed a sigh of relief, savouring the near-quiet of the Bryant's second floor. Two doors down from Jared's room, with the door between them being the bathroom, was Jayce's room, his door slightly ajar. I couldn't stop myself from padding down the hallway to his room, passing the open balcony and staircase on my left, which overlooked the living room and front door below. Standing in front of Jayce's door, I listened for any sound coming from inside, before lightly pushing the door open a crack upon hearing nothing. The room was dark, the afternoon sunlight blocked out behind thick, dark red curtains. His double bed was on my right, facing the wall on my left, and beside it was a nightstand holding a lamp and an alarm lock, along with a bunch of random junk. The room appeared to be empty, which begged the question, where was Jayce? He barely ever left his room, otherwise known as his dungeon by both Jared and Leon. I liked to think of it as more of Jayce's sanctuary. I mean, even though the guy seemed kinda scary, I didn't believe for a second he was as horrible as Jared made him out to be.
The fact that Jayce wasn't in his room caused a feeling of curiosity to sprout in me. I had never been in Jayce's room before, and I wanted to know if he did, as Jared had told me once, have weed stashed in his drawers and the bones of a cat in a shoebox under his bed. I highly doubted it, but Jayce was Jared's brother, which meant he knew him better than I did. So maybe it was true. This was a perfect opportunity to see what type of place Jayce spent most of his time in.
Pushing the door open wider, I took a step inside and looked around. The same dark red, hardwood floors in the rest of the house continued on into the room, though the white walls in the hallway didn't. Instead, his walls were a dark grey colour, with white trim and numerous pieces of printer paper stuck to the right wall. Each sheet had something different on it, from doodles to sayings and phrases, to song lyrics and poems. On the opposite side of the room from me was a big bay window, jutting out from the side of the house. Where a window seat normally would be, was a drum-set and a black leather stool. Across from the bed, facing it, was a large flatscreen TV sitting on top of a low entertainment stand. The stand held a cable box, a DVD player, and an Xbox 360. Below them were two cabinet doors on either side of two shelves, which held DVD's and games. On the right of the TV was a dresser, and on the left was a closet. All-in-all, it didn't look all that weird or unusual, though I had never suspected Jayce to play the drums, or be into whatever you called the papers hanging on his wall.
Stepping up to his dresser, I pulled open the top drawer and peered inside. I instantly recognized the fabric as socks and underwear, and immediately shoved it closed. Let's hope if there was drugs stashed in his drawers, they weren't in there, because I wasn't about to go rifling through some other guys underwear drawer.
"What the fuck do you think you're fucking doing?" asked a deep, hoarse voice.
I whipped around and stared wide-eyed at Jayce, who stood in the doorway to his room, earbuds in his ears and eyes narrowed at me.
"I, uh . . . was . . . um . . ." I couldn't think of a good excuse as to why I was in his room.
He rolled his eyes and moved to his bed, effectively going back to his I-don't-care attitude.
"Whatever, just get the hell out," he ordered, nonchalantly. His voice wasn't as deep as, say, Dwayne Johnson, but you could tell it belonged to a guy. The fact that he didn't talk much gave it a hoarse, rasp to it, though I couldn't say that it was bad.
When I just continued to stand there, staring at him, he flickered his gaze over to me for the briefest of seconds before sighing.
"What?" he asked, looking at his phone.
"Nothing, I just . . ." Awkwardly looking at my feet, I inquired, "Can I stay here?"
That got his attention, at least for a minute or two.
"Here, in my fucking room?"
I nodded, biting my lower lip.
"Why?" He genuinely sounded curious, as if he couldn't believe anyone would want to spend time with him.
"Jared and Leon are fighting-" He snorted at that, turning his attention back to his phone. "-and I don't really want to go back in there yet."
"Alright, you can stay, but don't touch my damn stuff."
"Okay," I replied.
We lapsed into silence, and when he didn't offer me a seat, I moved over to the door and sat down beside it, my back against the wall. I tried not to stare at him, but it was hard. In the past few years, Jayce had gotten his lip pierced twice and each of his earlobes pierced. The two holes right below his bottom lip on the right side, wore two small, black hoops through them. Same went for his ears, except instead of hoops he wore studs. His hair had grown longer, but he still kept it in the same style, layers of black fringe falling in his eyes, only to be brushed aside every once in a while. Though he was still as pale and thin as ever, the acne he once had wasn't as bad as it had been when he was fifteen. Just like the day we first met, though, he ignored me so well it felt like he had forgot I was even there. In fact, I believe he did forget about me being there, sitting on his bedroom floor. While I watched, he began humming to whatever song he was listening to, tapping his fingers against his thigh along to the beat.
I could've spent hours in that room, studying Jayce as he lived and breathed in his own little world, but it wasn't long before I heard Jared and Leon out in the hall, making their way downstairs for supper.
Reluctantly, I climbed to my feet and gave a final glance at Jayce, whose eyes were closed and whose fingers were still tapping along to whatever song he was listening to. Even as I shut the door behind me, he never once opened his eyes and looked at me. I don't think he even knew I was leaving.
I met Jared and Leon downstairs in the kitchen, where we immediately dug into the food Mrs. Bryant had made. The guys didn't ask me where I was, and I was glad. I wasn't sure how Jared would feel about me hanging out in his brother's room.
Mrs. Bryant sat a plate out for Jayce, who never showed. After a bit of waiting while we ate, Mrs. Bryant finally told Jared to go up and get his brother. When he returned, he came back alone.
"He said he's not hungry," Jared told her, picking up his fork. He immediately went back to stuffing his face with chicken nuggets and rice.
It didn't seem like a big deal to me. So Jayce wasn't hungry, so what? Missing one meal wasn't going to kill him. However, Mrs. Bryant frowned, her expression seeming concerned. For the rest of supper, she was quiet, and when she did speak, she gave strained smiles. She quickly excused herself once she was done eating.
Neither Leon or I broached the subject surrounding Jayce and his mother's concern for his eating habits, not wanting to upset Jared in anyway. Instead we let it slide, and followed Jared back to his room to play some more games.
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Every time I went over to Jared's after that day, I always found a way to spend time in Jayce's room. He never asked me why I was there or told me to get out. For about an hour each time I went over there, I would sit on his floor and he would lay on his bed, neither of us talking. I would watch him most of the time, while he would barely ever acknowledge my presence.
We had gotten into a sort of routine in that way, which was why I found it deeply unsettling to walk into his room one day and not find him in there. It reminded me of the first time I came in his room, all those weeks ago. Instead of going through his drawers this time, though, I walked over to his wall of papers and started to read some of them.
"When all you got is these four walls, it's not that hard to feel so small," the first one read.
"When your life feels lost, fight against the wrongs. Never give in, never back down," said another.
"There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds." - Laurell K. Hamilton, Mistral's Kiss (Merry Gentry #5), the next one stated.
My eyes shifted to the one beside it. "I can't eat and I can't sleep. I'm not doing well in terms of being a functional human, you know?" - Ned Vizzini, It's Kind of a Funny Story.
Just as I went to read another one, the sound of the door closing made me jump and whirl around. Jayce barely did more than give me a curious look, before walking over and brushing passed me to lay down on his bed. No words were spoken between us at first, even though I still stood right beside his bed, close enough to stick my hand out and touch his arm if I wanted to.
Clearing my throat, I turned my gaze back to the wall of papers while I asked, "What do they mean?"
Jayce glanced back at the wall behind him, then at me.
"Can't you read plain fucking English?" he inquired, though his tone wasn't aggressive.
"No- err, yeah, I can, but what I meant was, what do they mean to you?" I turned my sight to him, watching as he shifted his gaze away from me.
He shrugged.
Switching my gaze back to the wall, I asked, "Why do you collect these?"
I didn't really expect him to answer, especially once a few minutes of silence passed between us. When I thought it was hopeless to wait any longer for an answer, I turned around and started heading toward the spot I usually sat, on the floor beside the door.
His voice stopped me in my tracks.
"They remind me to keep going," he answered quietly. "That I'm not alone."
When I turned to look at him, he was staring at his phone. That was it, no further explanation. I didn't push for more, because I knew Jayce, he didn't like to talk very much and getting him to even share this much with me was more than I could have ever imagined. So instead I sat down in my spot and let the time tick away, my attention on the room around me and the boy who held so many secrets.
Later on, I stood up and rejoined Jared in his room. Leon wasn't there because his parents wanted to do a family night. The only reason I was able to sneak off to Jayce's room was because Mrs. Bryant had got Jared to do his chores, which he had been putting off all week. During supper, Jared and I sat across from each other while Mrs. Bryant sat at one end of the table and Mr. Bryant sat at the other. The chair beside Jared, where Jayce was supposed to sit, was empty, and Mrs. Bryant sent Jared off to fetch Jayce.
As Jared rose out of his seat, I spoke up in a rush. "Uh, how about I go get him?"
Jared gave me a quizzical look, then shrugged and sat back down. No one questioned me on why I wanted to go get Jayce, a guy no one knew I had even ever spoken to before. Jared just went back to eating his ribs and fries, too preoccupied with his food to quiz me.
I headed upstairs and knocked on Jayce's door, feeling just as awkward and nervous as I always did when I first entered his room. Like usual, he didn't acknowledge my presence, most likely too caught up in his music to even hear my knock. This was why I decided to let myself in, carefully closing the door behind me. His eyes were closed and his breathing slow and deep. It looked like he was sleeping, one hand laying limply on his stomach and the other loosely holding his phone, his arm laying on the mattress. I didn't want to wake him, but it was supper time and Mrs. Bryant expected him downstairs.
"Jayce?" I quietly asked, stepping closer to him. He didn't even stir.
I tried again a little louder. "Jayce?"
Still, he didn't budge.
Stopping beside his bed, I reached out and pressed on his shoulder gently.
"Jayce, it's supper time, you gotta wake up," I told him, carefully shaking him.
He swatted my hand away, and rolled over onto his right side, putting his back to me.
"'m not hungry," he murmured, half annoyed and half asleep.
"C'mon, how can you not be hungry? You haven't eaten since-" I cut myself off, realizing that I couldn't remember the last time I had seen him eat. It was Saturday, and I had arrived at eleven. Jared and I had been in the kitchen until one-thirty, and Jayce never went in there. After that I was in his room until quarter-after-four, when I joined Jared in his room. That left only an hour and fifteen minutes for Jayce to have eaten something today. Though it was plenty of time to have crept downstairs when no one was looking, grab something to eat, and escape back to his room, a feeling in my gut told me something wasn't right. Alarm bells were going off in my head as I took in Jayce's curled-up form on the bed, as if for the first time. Was he always this skinny? Was it the lack of lighting that made his cheeks look somewhat sunken in, or were they always like that?
"Jayce?" Fear and worry clouded my voice as I breathed out his name.
He must have heard the emotions in my tone, because he lifted his head and looked over his shoulder at me. His eyes questioned me, their vibrant shade piercing me like always, but I couldn't focus on them.
I didn't know much about eating disorders at the time, especially not the signs of one. All I knew was that not eating wasn't a good thing, and Jayce's body didn't look entirely healthy. It made me wonder how long he had been starving himself, if that was in fact the case. Weeks? Months? Years? Thinking back, Jayce was skinny even when I first met him. He was thin, pale, and always kept to himself. Could it be, even back then, he was slowly killing himself? Or was he just naturally thin and pale? I couldn't say for certain, because for as long as I had known him, Jayce was always this way. Maybe he had more fat on him back then, maybe even more muscle, but my memory seemed fuzzy on the details.
"Jayce, did you eat today?" I asked, trying to control the panic that was rising in me.
His eyes never left mine as he answered. "No."
My body was restless as my brain tried to process what it was being told.
"Did you eat yesterday?" Please Jayce, please . . .
His gaze wavered, but held on. "No."
"This week?"
Finally, he dropped my gaze, rolling over once again so that his back was to me. "Once. I ate lunch on Tuesday."
That was four days ago. Four days of no food. Four days of starving himself. Four days where I didn't notice a thing wrong. How many more days did I not see he was hurting himself? Did his brother know? Did his parents know?
I felt helpless in that moment, unsure of what to do, what to say.
"Why?" I finally questioned, but he didn't answer. "Why Jayce?"
"I don't have to tell you a fucking thing," he replied over his shoulder.
That hurt, but I refused to dwell on it. It wasn't like we were friends anyway. Though he might not feel the same, I liked Jayce, he was different and interesting to be around. I couldn't imagine him weak and hurting, like he was now.
Sitting down against his bed, I faced the door and asked, "Why do you like the f. word so much?"
Jayce was quiet for a few moments.
"Why can't you say 'fuck'?" he countered.
Licking my bottom lip, I told him, "My dad swears a lot when he's mad, and so I guess growing up around someone who only swears when they're angry kinda taught me that only angry people swear. People who are mad are usually pretty violent too."
After a beat or two of silence, Jayce admitted, "I like to swear because sometimes it's the best way to express yourself, and get your point across. My favorite is 'fuck' though, just because of the way it sounds and the multiple ways you can use it."
We lapsed into silence, and I listened to his breathing. It was calming to know someone else was with you, but not being pressured to make conversation. I think that was one reason why I liked hanging out in his room with him. Though conversation usually came easily to Jared, Leon and I, it was nice to just hangout with someone and not have to speak at all.
Without warning, an earbud was suddenly dangling in my vision, a slender hand holding the cord connected to it above my head. I looked from it to Jayce, who was now laying on his left side so that he faced me. As far as I knew, his music was sacred, it was something he didn't even share with his brother. No one in his family knew what he listened to, so it was only fair to say that I was curious to know what he had playing on his phone.
I took the earbud from him and pressed it into my ear, instantly hearing the last few chords of a song. Another one immediately took its place, and I looked to Jayce as the first couple of lines filled my ears. He showed me the screen of his phone, where the title 'Hold Me Now' could be seen, along with the artist, 'Red'. Looking from the screen to his face, our eyes locked as the music played. I never knew this kind of music existed, I was so use to up-beat and sex-filled pop songs, or country music about love and pick-up trucks. It was so sad. It was kind of depressing to listen to, but I got the feeling that maybe that was why he listened to it. Because he could relate.
He laid back on his bed, breaking our gaze, and instead turning his eyes to the ceiling. After a moment, he closed his eyes and just breathed, soaking in the music and returning to the world inside his head. I couldn't let him do that though.
"Jayce," I began, moving so that I was on my knees facing him. He opened his eyes but otherwise didn't acknowledge that I had spoken. "If I brought you food, would you eat it?"
"I'm not fucking hung-"
"You haven't eaten in days Jayce, it's not healthy. You're slowly killing yourself."
He sighed and closed his eyes. "I'll try, if it'll make you quit bugging me about it."
Before he could change his mind, I hurried downstairs and into the kitchen.
"Where's Jayce?" Mrs. Bryant asked, upon spotting my return.
"He's tired, so I was hoping it would be okay if I just took his food back up to his room?" I explained, hoping that she would be alright with him eating in his room.
Her face lit up like someone had just given her a large present, and she quickly rose from her chair, nodding her head enthusiastically.
"Yes, yes that's fine, dear. Let me just make him plate, it'll only take a minute," she hurriedly assured me, swiftly moving around the kitchen as she piled food onto a plate. She was right about it only taking a minute, because within that time she had managed to cram as much food as she could onto a plate, hand it to me, and then fill a glass with water.
She waved me up the stairs, shooing me from the kitchen the second my hands were full. When I reentered Jayce's room, he was still laying on his bed, listening to his music. The earbud that I had been using was laying beside him, waiting for me. I shut the door with my foot and walked over to his bed, placing the glass and plate on his nightstand. He didn't even glance at it, though I saw his nostrils twitch at the new smell.
"Are you going to eat?" I inquired, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
He shrugged.
Sighing, I reminded him, "You said you'd try."
Glancing at the food, he reached over and picked up a fry. He nibbled on the end of it for what seemed like forever.
Defeated, I face-planted into his pillows, which I quickly found out was a mistake. The smell of him instantly invaded my nose, leaving me to wonder how he could smell so good for someone who almost never left his bed. Hugging his pillow to my face, I forgot about Jayce laying right beside me. That is until I felt the bed dip as he moved closer.
Peeking up from the pillow, my face warm from embarrassment, I stared at Jayce as he stretched his upper body over mine so that he could grab another fry. His chest was brushing against my back, his lips just inches from my cheek. Heat quickly flared up in my face and spread through my body like a wildfire, my stomach fluttering with nerves.
His light pink lips closed around the French fry as his teeth sank into it. I could hear his stomach growl fiercely, his eyes on the plate. He finished the fry pretty quickly and soon had another one in his mouth. I was tempted to ask him if he wanted me to move, but I didn't want to interrupt him in case he quit eating.
By the time he had ate all of the fries, I had resigned myself to laying facedown with him leaning over me. It wasn't exactly a horrible position, but it was awkward since he was a guy, and I didn't care for people being so close to me. The closer a person was, the easier they could hurt you.
He didn't touch the ribs, I noticed. At my questioning look, he simply stated, "Full."
I didn't argue, since I didn't want him to get sick, and his stomach wasn't growling anymore.
Deciding it was safe to ask, I opened my mouth. "Um, do you want me to move?"
At the moment, he had the glass of water in his hand and he was sipping on it carefully, still leaning over me. He paused his drinking at my question, and looked down at me and the position we were in.
"Oh," was his response. If there was one thing I could say about Jayce, it was that he wasn't very observant at times.
Setting the glass back on the nightstand, he rolled off of me and laid down. Now we were side-by-side, with him looking at the ceiling and me looking at him. He reached up and brushed some hair out of his eyes, the sleeve of his hoody catching my eye. It had slid down a few inches on his arm when he moved it, and the first three words of black ink became visible on the underside of his wrist. 'Sometimes you gotta . . .'
"'Gotta' what?" I asked, motioning to the tattoo with my hand.
Jayce stopped moving, then slowly lowered his arm and turned it over, staring at the spot his sleeve had slid up his arm. After a moments pause, he tugged the sleeve higher and twisted his wrist around, showing it to me.
"'Sometimes you gotta fall before you fly'," I read aloud, staring at the beautifully scripted ink. Between the lines, my eyes fell on a thin white line. A scar.
Raising my eyes to his, I had to ask.
"Where'd you get the scar?" I was expecting, possibly even hoping for him to say a bike accident, or a nasty cat scratch. His answer wasn't even fathomable.
"I self-harmed once, took a pair of scissors to it. It hurt like a motherfucker." He frowned at his wrist. "That was before I moved here."
"Have . . . Have you self-harmed since?" I was almost afraid of his response.
He shook his head, then locked his eyes with mine.
"Sometimes when you fall, you fall hard and fast. I swore to myself, never again. No matter how hard I fall next time, I won't ever fucking do that again," he told me seriously.
"I thought it said you're supposed to fly if you fall?" I retorted.
For the first time since I had met him, I saw Jayce Bryant smile. It was small and sad, and a bit crooked, but it took my breath away just the same.
"Have you ever watched baby birds try to fly? Sometimes they fall over and over before they can."
"So why are you trying to kill yourself by not eating?" It seemed for as much positivity as he was showing me now, the fact that he was starving himself was even more confusing.
The smile disappeared, and he relaxed back into the mattress, eyes on the ceiling.
"It's not that I don't want to eat, I just . . . I'm tired. I don't have the energy to eat, or even the desire or hunger to eat anything. Usually I just tell myself I'll eat later, that I'll be hungry later, but . . . I often lose track of how long it's been since I ate."
"That's not healthy," I told him, softly.
He laughed humourlessly. "You don't think I fucking know that?"
"Have you talked to anyone about this?"
"Like who? My mom just wants to see me fucking eat, my dad is too busy paying attention to his damn job and his 'good' son, and my brother would be the last fucker I went to about anything."
"So what about me? You're talking to me."
He seemed to pause and think about that for a moment. "You're different. You're easy to talk to."
Feeling the same way, I replied, "Ditto."
Silence consumed us, blanketing us in the peace that came with it. I could hear the muffled sound of Jared in his room, his TV blaring some game or movie. Downstairs, some dishes clattered together. The tiny sound of music playing out of Jayce's earbuds. The soft inhale and exhale of breath between us. The shuffle of the comforter when Jayce moved his legs. I could hear it all, and it was strangely soothing.
"Matty," Jayce spoke quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Hmm?" I turned my head to look at him.
"I . . . Um . . .Never mind." He rolled over onto his side, away from me.
"What Jayce?" I pushed, turning so that I faced his back.
"Forget it," he snapped, pulling his phone to him and pushing in an earbud.
Grabbing his phone, I told him, "No, tell me."
"Matthew," he growled, eyes hard as steel.
"Jayce," I threw back at him.
I didn't know where this confidence of mine was coming from, but I wasn't entirely against it. Normally I wouldn't have been so bold as to talk to him like this, yet here I was.
"Give me my phone," he demanded.
"Tell me what you were going to say," I countered.
"Go to hell." He reached for his phone, but I pulled it away just as quickly.
"Not until you tell me what you were going to say."
"I was going to ask if you could hug me, okay?"
I was so stunned by his reveal that I didn't even react when he snatched the phone from my grasp and turned back over onto his side. He stuffed his earbuds into his ears and turned the volume up, the next song already playing. Once I had recollected my bearings, I stared at his back for a moment. Had he really wanted me to hug him? Jayce, Mr. I-don't-care-about-anything, wanted me to hug him? I couldn't believe it, and yet at the same time I could. The pieces of the puzzle that made up Jayce Bryant were finally starting to fall into place.
Moving closer and ignoring the butterflies that beat at my insides, I wrapped my arms around Jayce's torso and hugged him from behind. He tensed at first, but slowly relaxed into my embrace. I plucked the headphones out of their jack in his phone, and instantly the song playing began surrounding us. Jayce pulled the earbuds from his ears and laid the phone down on the bed, his hands then taking hold of mine until our fingers were intertwined. As we laid their, I rested my head on top of his and listened as he softly and quietly began to sing along to the music. I fell asleep like that, and when I awoke we had switched positions, with me on my back and Jayce laying sprawled on top of me, his arms around my neck and his right cheek pressed against my left. His right leg was pressed between mine, his thigh firmly against my crotch. I didn't dare move for fear of awakening a part of me that would be embarrassing in a moment such as this.
Bringing a hand to Jayce's head, I brushed his hair back from his face, savouring the feeling of the soft strands between my fingers. He stirred, causing me to pause in my motion, as his leg moved against me. Sucking in a deep breath, I focused on the ceiling above me in hopes that would distract my body. Unfortunately, Jayce wasn't done moving. He squirmed and stretched, before lifting his head and unwrapping his arms from around me. I didn't know if it was my eyes playing tricks on me, but Jayce looked more relax and alive than he did before we fell asleep. His eyes seemed lighter, less fatigued.
"What time is it?" he asked, rolling over onto his back. Our shoulders were touching, along with our hips. It was a strange feeling laying so close to someone else. Strange, but nice.
I picked up Jayce's phone from where it had fallen, forgotten on the bed on the other side of Jayce. Tapping the screen twice, I watched as the slim LG phone lit up.
"4:56 AM," I read aloud. Shifting my eyes away from the screen as I put it back to sleep, I looked at Jayce. "We've been sleeping for about ten hours now."
"Well that's a fucking hell of a miracle," he muttered, rubbing his eye.
"What do you mean?"
Dropping his hand back to his side, he sat up and looked around the room as he answered with a shrug. "I don't usually sleep very well. I'm always tired, but it's like my body just doesn't know when to sleep. Sometimes I'll sleep for twelve or more hours at a time, other times I can't get more than three hours a night."
I didn't know what else to say, other than, "That's gotta suck."
He snorted, then climbed from the bed.
"You have no idea," he replied bitterly.
Following him with my eyes, I watched from the bed as he went to his dresser and grabbed some clothes out of it. He barely glanced at each article of clothing before chucking it toward the bed, where it laid flung out across the comforter.
"What are you doing?" He stripped off his belt and tossed it on the bed.
"Going for a shower," he replied simply, snatching up his phone.
He was almost out the door when he suddenly turned back and gave me a hard look.
"Don't tell anyone about . . . everything that happened and what I told you last night."
I nodded, already knowing I would never tell a soul about this. Even I couldn't believe the events that had unfolded between us.
As he turned back to the door and began turning the handle, I opened my mouth.
"And Jayce . . ." Thinking over my next words as he looked over his shoulder at me, I finally said, "If you ever need someone . . . there for you like last night, just know I'm here, as cheesy as it sounds."
For the second time, for as long as I had known him, Jayce smiled at me. This one was small just like the last, but pleasant. He nodded his head and left the room, leaving me there in his bed to wait for his return. I pulled the covers up over me and rolled over onto my side, facing the spot he had been playing. As I laid there in the quiet, still darkness of his bedroom, I realized what that warm feeling in my chest and the butterflies in my stomach meant.
I liked a boy who was depressed; a boy who loved to swear and never went anywhere without his music; a boy who was three years older than me and who was my best friend's brother; and his name was Jayce.
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Trivial Facts:
This story was inspired by Chapter 12 of The Bro Code by joecool123 on Wattpad, and reading the part where Nick leaves Carter and Austin in Carter's room and goes to Eliza's room instead, right after the three boys have a heart-to-heart about Nick's dad.
Jayce was originally named Jamison, with his nickname being Jamie, until I remembered that one of the main characters in I'm Not Gay is named Jamie.
Jayce was originally supposed to be the cool, older brother of Jared, but overtime his character seemed better as someone who had an eating disorder. Then I changed it once more, when I decided that he was a much better fit for a depressed teenager, who was struggling with competing against his brother for being the better son.
I based Jayce's depression off of my own. Depression is different for everyone, so keep that in mind. Thinking back to when I was at my worst, I often felt so tired -- physically, mentally and emotionally -- that a lot of the time I didn't feel like eating. A lot of times eating anything more than a few crackers made me sick. Sometimes though, I would be the complete opposite, binge eating constantly. With Jayce, he only felt the first way, never having any interest in food, and his body never told him he was hungry until he started eating.