Chapter Text
Jake Dillinger is pretty sure he’s a good person.
He’s not, like, a bully or anything. He’s nice. Maybe some of his friends weren’t always nice, but Jake himself has always prided himself on being less than a colossal douchebag. Maybe that’s setting the bar a little low, but considering the popularity contest that is Middleborough High, Jake’s pretty sure that not being a colossal douchebag is a pretty high achievement.
Even Rich knew not to be a douchebag in front of him, though Jake also knows maybe it would have been a good idea to try harder to keep him from being a douchebag to other people. But it’s also not his job to keep his friend on a leash at all times. Especially considering the whole… mind control thing. The night of the Play is still hazy, but that thing was a hell of a drug, and he gets why Rich was an asshole. But like, Rich was still an asshole, and a robopill doesn’t totally erase that.
Not to mention, he does try to be inclusive. Sophomore year was when Rich first came into Jake’s life, and Jake didn’t even make short person jokes until they were friends and it was just part of bro humor.
And he’s never been shallow about girls. He’s been willing to hook up with pretty much anyone, and all of his girlfriends can attest that he was, bare minimum, never mean or a jerk, and universally a pretty good guy. For the girls that also treated him right, like an actual person rather than just The Jake Dillinger, he was sweet and thoughtful and reciprocated how kindly they treated him. And no matter what, he never, ever cheated. Even if some of his rebounds came really, really soon after official breakups, they did come after, so it still doesn’t count as cheating.
Maybe Jake’s not the smartest, but he knows people and how they work, and he’s good at reading people to figure out how to play a crowd. He’s good like that, uses his powers for good instead of evil and all that jazz. And even if he’s not a genius, it’s not like he’s stupid, either. He keeps quiet with his answers most of the time, doesn’t needlessly pipe up in class, but that’s because he doesn’t really need that kind of attention. He’s got plenty elsewhere, and he’ll save that for the kids that need it. He’s nice like that.
He even saved Drama Club from getting cancelled, mostly by convincing all his friends to join up—all so Christine would still have her favorite after school activity. Sure, he also wanted to date her, but that’s not really wrong—it’s not like he quit after they broke up. He stuck with it through the play, even after he couldn’t even walk for his parts.
So yeah. Jake is, officially, a nice guy.
It’s just that the universe doesn’t seem to think so.
Karma, God, Entropy, Fate, Nothing—whatever force was driving the universe, Jake definitely wasn’t being dealt a fair hand. Between the fire, his parents, his legs, and the whole… ‘surprise, your best friend is controlled by a robot!’ thing, and all of the other disasters that snowballed from those things… Jake’s pretty sure someone is out to get him. It’s not even a paranoid delusion. Just the understanding that fate seems like a gigantic douchebag, what with how unevenly it stacked Jake’s cards.
Except, the thing is, at the end of Junior year when he cracks that joke, people laugh along like they’re supposed to, given his tone—but they don’t really get the punchline.
“You’re tellin’ me,” Rich says. “Not all of us are born handsome as fuck, with natural athletic talent and rich parents.”
“And a straight man in America,” Jenna says, not looking up from her phone. “That’s pretty important.”
Christine and Brooke say “Preach!” at the same time, and Jake feels a little like the wind’s been taken out of his sails.
Not knocked out of him, so to speak—mostly because that’s a phrase he’s never gonna use again, after landing with Rich on his chest after the three-story-jump on Halloween Night.
Just taken out of his sails, because what’s there to say to that? It’s true enough.
But it’s also not really true enough to hold water, whether it’s stilled his sails or not.
After all, Jake’s still in physical therapy, even after wearing casts for four months and leg-braces for another month and a half. Not to mention he’s lost all his sports scholarships since coaches know he’s never gonna have the same natural talent or running ability even after he’s fully recovered. He’s been hoping to prove them wrong, but the college he signed on for wants him to try out for the team once he’s actually a freshman, and that—that’s a bit of a bummer.
And the whole rich parents thing? It doesn’t feel great since he knows they laundered money. It’s not a reflection on him, sure, but it has a big effect. Not to mention his parents got caught a month ago in Peru, meaning that everything they left him in insurance and fireproof safes and trust funds and secret bank accounts—that’s all he’s got left, ever since he’s become officially emancipated. Maybe it’s still a lot compared to most people, but it’s also in the hands of a teenage boy with no parental guidance. Jake is painfully aware of how much medical bills and unexpected house rebuildings can eat away at savings, and just how impossible it’ll be to make the rest last through college.
And maybe Rich calls him handsome, but handsome is relative, and Jake wants to be so much more than just handsome. And hey, not that it matters, but girls haven’t exactly been flocking to him since he’s been in a wheelchair and crutches. Not that he wants girls just for the sake of having them, but the fact that no one’s been coming says a lot about how much a pretty face means if it’s paired with a broken …everything else.
And also, Jake is black.
It’s not like it’s something in his favor.
He knows that Jenna doesn’t mention it, but the whole ‘straight man in America’ thing means a hell of a lot less considering, y’know, he still doesn’t have that white card privilege. And he knows Jenna knows it, because she gets it in a way Jeremy and Rich and Brooke and Chloe can’t.
He’s also not really sure how far the whole ‘straight’ thing can go when he’s already hooked up with a couple of guys in the past, and was planning more before Halloween happened. At the time, he was also an athlete, and he knew how much of a nightmare locker rooms could get if someone wasn’t masculine and virulently straight. Even now that he’s off of his old teams indefinitely, even now that several people in his friends group aren’t strictly straight, the feeling’s stuck with him. It’s always been easier to support others than himself, after all.
More than that, he also knows how tough things can get if he stacks marginalized status on top of marginalized status. The last thing he wants is to be seen as a collection of stereotypes and problems, until there’s nothing left of Jake Dillinger to the casual observer. So until a relationship with a guy matters enough for him to come out, it’s not really anyone else’s business if he thinks there are some hot guys out there.
So as his friends move onto a different topic of conversation, Jake’s laugh joins in, too, a little delayed. It’s the tiniest bit uncomfortable-sounding, but they don’t really notice, and that’s just fine with him. He’s a nice guy like that—he doesn’t really feel the need to draw attention to how much else there is to him.
The wind is already out of his sails, and it’s easier to just laugh along with the crowd than dispute them.
Because hey, maybe they have a point. He did have some cards stacked in his favor at the start of his life, and that’s a lot.
But there’s also kind of a lot that’s happened since then, in case no one noticed.
(In his self-reflection and going along with the crowd, Jake misses the way Michael’s eyes linger on him across the table.)