He leans back, pulling his knees up and resting back on his hands behind him. He stares at a spot in front of him, lost in thought and unable to meet her eyes. He doesn't want to see her pity or her sympathy. "Honestly, I'm... not really sure that's the track we're on."
"Oh?" She sounds surprised by that, and she sits down next to him with a light groan. Facing the same direction, staring down the path at other runners and joggers, she nudges his shoulder with hers. "Tell me about it."
"It's just...," he sighs, running a hand through his hair, feeling sweat make it stand up on end. "I like him, Liddy. Like... a lot. I have feelings for him, like... real, strong, deep feelings." He groans, fingers twisting into his hair and pulling at the roots. He falls back, lying on the ground and letting his arms fall out as he glares up at the sky. "I hate this. I haven't felt like this with any of my ex's before. No offense."
"None taken."
"But I've never felt... this much for someone. I've found them hot and fun, yeah, but not... like this? I know I'm not making any sense, but it doesn't feel like it makes sense. I think... I think I might love him? I dunno. Maybe. I don't think I've ever really loved someone, so who the fuck knows. I'm trying to be patient, because I know he's not ready to come out, but... maybe it doesn't matter, you know? It just feels like... he's holding me at arm's length. Not physically, but emotionally. On the inside? Fuck, this makes no sense." He runs his hands over his face, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.
Liddy chuckles, and he feels her hand come down on his shoulder, rubbing and squeezing comfortingly. "Man, I didn't know you were such a girl."
He spreads his fingers, glaring up at her through them.
She grins, reaching out to playfully press a finger to his nose. "It's not a bad thing. It just means that you're in touch with your emotions, and it's what a lot of guys are afraid to do. I've always known you were sensitive. You feel a lot, and you let yourself feel. Some of your dude-bro friends could learn a lot from you."
Jake swats her hand away, throwing his arms up over his head as he sprawls out on the grass. "Feeling my feelings sucks."
She chuckles, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. "Yeah, it does. But it makes you a better person. It makes you human. And hey, if this thing with Kyle doesn't work out, at least it was a good step for you. Maybe you'll learn to broaden your horizons and try again."
"Yeah, maybe..." He eyes her through narrowed eyes, lips tight. "When did you get so wise?"
She grins, preening as she lifts her chin. "I've always been wise, thanks for noticing."
He snorts, rolling his eyes. "Is that why you once challenged me to a habanero pepper eating contest?"
She kicks him lightly. "Which I won, by the way."
"We burnt off half our taste buds!"
"But I won."
They laugh, and she stands, holding out a hand to help him back to his feet. They start off down the path again, jogging back towards campus. Liddy rambles between panting breaths about her girlfriend and her classes, just to fill the space. Jake makes the appropriate and expected noises of acknowledgement, but he's not really paying attention.
He's realized, through that conversation, that he's already started to think of him and Kyle as broken up, which leaves a sour taste on the back of his tongue and his gut twisted up in knots. The worst part is, he's not sure if he can consider them broken up if he's not even sure if they were together to begin with.
It's not a conversation he wants to have, but it's one he knows he needs to. He needs to know if they're officially together. He needs to know if Kyle is worth fighting for, or if they really are just drifting apart before they ever had a chance.
* * *
They meet up later that night to study. Jake had been on his way to Kyle's dorm when Kyle had texted him, asking if they could meet up in the student union instead. His roommate was there, and Kyle doesn't like the ideas his roommate has about them. Jake tries to ignore how much that stings.
They find a secluded small lounge area on the third floor. It's an area that's rarely crowded during the day, but here and now, well after class hours, it's even more empty. It's quiet and private, yet Jake feels like there's an ocean between them.
Kyle sits across the table, his laptop out and open, and a notebook sitting next to him. Jake's book and notebook are out, but he's not looking at them. His pen idly taps the page as he leans on the table, cheek resting against his open palm and elbow resting on the table. His eyes are on Kyle.
Kyle has barely looked at him since they arrived, and he's as fidgety and flighty as he has been for the past week or so. He looks nervous and shy, which is something that Jake had thought they were long past. It reminds him of their first couple of study sessions, but even then, the tension was different. Then it was a new kind of uncertain tension, but now it feels harsher, more nervous, and it makes Jake's stomach twist itself into knots.
They should be past this by now.
"So...," he starts, aiming for slow and casual. Kyle's eyes flicker up out of reflex, but then snap back down to his computer screen. Jake frowns. "This Saturday we have a practice match against a nearby school." Kyle raises a brow, humming lightly, and Jake takes that as reason enough to continue. "It's not a big deal. Just a game for fun before the real season starts next semester. It'll be here, but they're not like... selling tickets or anything. Anyone is welcome to come, though it's mostly friends, family, and... partners."
He sees Kyle freeze and hears the rhythmic typing stop. Slowly, his gaze lifts, carefully blank as he stares at Jake. Jake smiles, trying to go for casual and encouraging. He doesn't want to push. He knows from experience that when he does, Kyle tends to back away. But he needs to get this out in the open.
"I was thinking... maybe you could come?"
Kyle's eyes narrow slightly, brows pinching as his lips press into a thin line. "As your... friend?" He asks cautiously.
Jake's smile is sheepish as he tilts his head. "Well, yeah, kinda... though I was thinking more like... boyfriend?"
Kyle stares at him for a long moment, silent and tense. Jake can feel it thick and choking, suffocating him and forcing him to take shallow breaths. His stomach rolls, and his heart feels like it's lodged itself in his throat. All he can do is stare and wait.
The anticipation feels like there's an axe hanging over his head.
Kyle sighs, reaching forward to close his laptop with a finality that feels like the axe falling.
"Actually... I've been thinking about that..." He trails off, busying himself as he closes his notebook and sets it neatly on his laptop. He then leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and rubbing his temples with his fingers, closing his eyes. "I don't think I'm... ready for that. To be... gay." He whispers it, glancing around nervously as he lowers his voice. "I mean, I am. But I don't think I'm ready to be open with it."
Jake tries for a smile, but it feels shaky. His pulse hammers in his veins, making him feel dizzy. "That's fine. We don't have to come out about it yet. We don't have to tell anyone."
But Kyle is already shaking his head, leaning back and putting his hands on his notebook and laptop, fingers splayed wide. There's a stubborn determination there that makes Jake's heart sink into his stomach. He knows that look, and he doesn't like it in this context.
"No, Jake, I mean... Maybe we would be better off if we just... called this off?" He waves a hand in the air, lips pursed as he looks everywhere but at Jake. "You know... us? I like you. I really, really do. I... can't deny that. You're really great, and you deserve so much, but I don't think I can be the one to give it to you."
Jake feels himself tense. Heart like lead in his chest. His breaths shallow, and his blood static in his veins. He's heard this all before.
It's not you, it's me.
You're a great guy, but I don't think we fit.
I like you, I really do, but we should break up.
He's heard it so many times, but it's never hurt like th
is. He feels like he can't breathe. There's a ringing in his ear, and his limbs feel tingly. This can't be real. This has to be a bad dream. Not real, not real, not real—
"I'm sorry," Kyle continues, oblivious to Jake's panic. He's already packing up his things, movements quick but stiff. "I'm really sorry, but with school and my game and your sports... I just think it's a bad time. We should focus on other things. I asked around, and I found another tutor who can help you. I already emailed them your information, so they can start teaching you from now on—"
"Wait," Jake croaks, voice cracking. He can't bring himself to care. He sits up straight, eyes wide as he gapes at Kyle. "You're not going to tutor me either?" He can't tell if he feels offended or hurt. Probably both. Hurt is underlying everything at this point. "You don't want anything to do with me?"
Kyle zips up his bag with far more haste and force than necessary, stiffly getting to his feet and throwing the strap over his shoulder. He holds onto it, staring at the ground. "I just... think this is for the best. I'm sorry, but... You'll find someone better. To tutor you, and to be with."
He turns to leave, already scurrying away. Jake leaps to his feet, nearly tripping in his haste and scrambling after him. He grabs Kyle's wrist, jerking him to a stop. Kyle doesn't try to pull away, but he doesn't turn around either. He keeps his head bowed, body stiff.
"Kyle," Jake says, keeping his voice low. There's an urgency there, but he tries his best to sound reasonable and soothing. He can't let Kyle walk away. "Come on, just... think about this."
"I have." It sounds cold and indifferent, and a shiver runs down Jake's spine.
"I don't want someone else."
Kyle's body heaves with a sigh, shaky and wavering. "Just because you're pretty doesn't mean you always can have what you want." He turns then, pinning Jake with a watery gaze. His eyes are red rimmed and glassy, but there's an unwavering determination there. His lips purse into a tight frown. "Just..." He speaks softly, almost pleadingly. "Don't make this difficult. Don't follow me. Just... let me go."
He turns then, and when he tugs on Jake's grip, Jake lets him go.
He's left standing there long after Kyle is gone, eyes distant. Breathing is hard, and each breath threatens the well of emotions further up his throat until he's choking on a sob.
His stomach is twisted, and his skin buzzes with static. He's pretty sure his knees are shaking, but he still stands there, afraid that if he moves, it'll make this moment real. It's stupid, really, the idea that if he stays still, it won't be real.
He doesn't know what to do. He feels frantic and manic. Energy buzzes beneath his skin, but it has no focus and no direction.
He had been expecting this. He hadn't wanted to accept it or face it, but deep down, he had been expecting this. He had already been considering them broken up. He's broken up with people so many times before, but like with everything else, Kyle is different. Kyle has always been different.
It's through blurred vision and with shaking hands that he calls Liddy. She's the only one who will understand.
Chapter Twenty
Habituation.
The process of becoming so used to a continuous stimulus or condition that your psychological and emotional response to it becomes diminished or altogether disappears.
Conditioning.
Desensitized.
The pain no longer aches. Or rather, the pain is so damn near constant that he's forgotten what it feels like to feel any different. It's just part of him now. At first it had felt like a knife buried deep in his chest, stuck between his ribs and tearing at his heart. It hurt to move and to think. Every breath brought a fresh wave of pain.
But over time, he's gotten used to it. The sharpness of the knife has dulled. He's gotten used to its presence between his ribs. He's used to the ache in his heart. The way his stomach rolls no longer feels dizzying, and the nausea is constant enough to ignore.
The first few days had been a fresh new hell. He hadn't been able to sleep, but he also hadn't been able to get himself out of bed. Going to class was simply going through the motions, but he barely heard anything his professors said. Jasper tried to make conversation with him several times, but eventually gave up when his only responses were one word mutterings or grunts.
He threw himself into his game.
It was the only thing to truly distract him, and the only thing he could throw himself wholeheartedly into. It was the only thing that mattered, and the only thing that has mattered in the past few years. It's the only thing that should matter now. This is his life's work. This is what his brother wanted him to do. This is what he promised his brother that he would do. He has to finish it for him.
Time becomes a strange concept. It seems to drag by, sluggish and thick, sliding past him like molasses. And at the same time, it rushes. It flies past him without his awareness or consent. It drags and speeds in intervals, switching without warning, leaving him in a constant state of vertigo. He zones out and the clock says three hours have past, but his memories remain blurry and uncertain.
He disregards time as much as he can. He sets alarms for his classes, so he won't miss them, but other than that, he lets himself forget.
He loses himself to numbers and calculations and algorithms. He loses himself to pixels and fractals that make up his designs. He loses himself in walls of text. In dialogue options. In damage calculations. In weapon selections. In game market prices. In item selections. In ability brainstorming.
His fingers are a slave to his mind, flying across the keyboard and feeling as numb as the rest of him. His eyes burn, and he only trudges to bed when the burn becomes too much to bear and his eyes refuse to stay open. Then he curls up in bed, sometimes still fully clothed, often without brushing his teeth, and lets his body shut down.
It feels less like sleeping and more like a slip into unconsciousness. It's dreamless and dark. He wakes with a start most mornings, unable to go back to sleep and mind immediately latching onto the things he doesn't want to think about. He drags himself out of bed and to his desk, boots up his computer, and loses himself all over again.
Jasper, thankfully, is a heavy sleeper and doesn't seem to mind Kyle's odd hours or his new, sleepless schedule. If the light from his laptop screen bothers Jasper, he doesn’t say anything about it. Kyle can usually hear him snoring just minutes after he's crawled into bed. He envies him for that.
Jasper does, at one point, bring up his behavior. It's offhanded and casual. Just a comment about Kyle being in their dorm a lot more often now and asking if he's still seeing that jock guy. Kyle answers with a stiff and guarded no, but Jasper doesn't get the message. He pushes. Asks if they broke up and that's why Kyle is condemning himself like a hermit.
He says it as a joke, teasing and light hearted, and Kyle knows he doesn't mean anything hurtful by it. But it's too close to home. It finds that knife that's dulled in his chest and twists.
Kyle snaps at him. He doesn't remember all of what he says. He doesn't remember the words or his phrasing, but he remembers the venom. He remembers the anger. He remembers how, in that moment, he wanted to hurt Jasper as much as he was aching himself. He remembers saying some pointed things. Hurtful things.
He remembers Jasper's face.
He remembers it like a snapshot. A picture that remains in his memory even as the words around it fade. Jasper's eyes wide and mouth hanging open. His face contorted in surprise and shock. Another picture of it fading into hurt and confusion and betrayal. Another picture of it twisting into anger, closed off and cold and indifferent.
Jasper hasn't talked to him much since, and Kyle feels terrible. Whenever he sees his roommate, he feels a fresh wave of guilt roll through him. But soon enough, even that starts to dull. He gets used to the constant emotion of it. He stops looking at Jasper when he moves around the room, and keeps his eyes focused on his laptop screen.
If he just works on his game, everything will be okay. Everything else will fade. The pain will go away. He just has
to work until it goes away.
He just has to work.
He just has to focus.
He just has to forget.
* * *
While he's wrapped up in his game, in his coding, in his planning, and his work, he's fine. It's easy to push everything else aside and simply run calculations and plans in his head. It's when he stops that things get bad.
Cry Thunder is an unsteady dam. It's barely holding back the flood waters that threaten to crash in and sweep him away, drowning him violently and without care.
The moment he stops working and stops focusing, he barely gets a breath in before the waters start to trickle in. Thoughts of his brother and thoughts of Jake. They rush into his mind in tandem, creating havoc and swirling him down into dark, watery depths. He feels like he can't breathe. He feels like he can't think. His body starts to go numb as his mind drifts away from it, breath coming ragged and fast as a panic attack edges closer.
The numbness keeps him from feeling the anger, brittle and white hot. Whenever he stops working, whenever he lets himself breathe and the thoughts come crashing in, his anger burns hot and it burns fast. It rips through his veins, aching in his heart and simmering in his lungs.
He's angry at Jake. Jake, with his stupidly pretty face and stupidly attractive body and his stupidly adorable laugh and smile that make Kyle melt every time. Jake made him forget his brother. Jake's presence in his life made him forget the one person he promised never to forget. Jake made him forget his priorities, swept up in the excitement of the moment and the heat of passion. He never thought he'd be one to be blinded by a pretty face, but here he is.
He's angry at his parents. They should have called him when he forgot to call them. They should have gone to his brother's grave. They claim to be moving on, but to Kyle, it feels like giving up. He refuses to give up or let go. He doesn't want to let his brother go.
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