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Jack couldn’t deny the very prominent grin he wore home that day. Everyone in his household was confused — down to the pesky flies. Race was even annoyed by the look on his face.
“Okay, what happened to you to be in a good mood?” Charlie asked, almost teasingly. It was dinner, and everyone sat around the dinner table. Conversation was light and playful, and Jack’s bright mood never ceased.
“Literally! Like all my work for…nothing,” Race ended his sentence in a whisper. He sobbed for the theatrics. Jack rolled his eyes, feeling a laugh bubbling deep in his throat.
“…A cute boy may have given me brownies and his phone number,” Jack said, a little too quickly. His heart pounded heavily, threatening to break his rib cage. He didn’t have much of a problem talking about his love life with his family; he trusted them and was horrible at basic lying (especially with Charlie). It was only that his love life was pretty much non-existent. Unless you’d count the endless pecks on the cheek when he was in 1st great. Then, yeah, he had game.
Medda blinked a couple of times, “Hon, come again?”
“I heard brownies!” Race leapt out of his seat. Medda glared at him and he sat right back down, muttering apologies.
Charlie only looked at Jack with curiosity and slight amusement; he no doubt heard what Jack had said. Jack felt his face flame.
“So, uh…there’s this boy — David. He…well, he might or might not have…given me brownies and his number to cheer me up.” Jack was aware of his voice losing volume near the end. This was endlessly more terrifying than he originally thought. Maybe he did have a problem talking about his love life in front of his family.
“Aww, that’s sweet,” Medda cooed. She stabbed the pile of noodles again, scooping up the perfect bite of spaghetti.
“Is Jack Larkin back in the playing field?” Race wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“Oh, piss off,” Jack scoffed, kicking the Italian’s shins from underneath the table. Race mimed choking him. Charlie was dying from laughter.
“I’d prefer you guys to not have a battle to the death when there’s food to be eaten,” Medda chortled at her own comment. She swept her hands over the table, gesturing to their half-eaten plates.
The table fell back into a lulling silence, and the only sounds were their forks scraping against the plate and the creaks from readjusting their positions in their chairs.
Medda finished her plate first. She quickly washed it in the sink and told the boys that she was going to bed early. They all shared their respective ‘goodnight’s, and, after kissing all of them on the head, Medda headed to her bedroom.
A few beats of silence passed by the foster brothers before Charlie heaved a dramatic sigh. He twirled the tomato-covered pasta, almost looking bored.
“Y’know, Racer, I’m not sure you can talk much,” Charlie rested his head on the palm of his hand. Race cocked his head to the side. Jack darted his eyes between the two, now genuinely confused. “I mean, you and Al have been getting…close.”
Jack clamped his hand over his mouth. Race clenched his jaw, and Jack could’ve sworn that smoke was starting to come out of his ears.
“We’re best friends. Of course we’re close.” Race offered lamely, nervously laughing. Charlie quirked up an eyebrow in amusement. Race rolled his eyes and flipped him off.
Charlie chuckled, “Okay, okay, I’ll trust you on this…”
And that seemed to be the end of the conversation.
Jack felt like Race rushed to finish his food to excuse himself early. He dismissed the idea but still had his suspicions.
When he heard a distant ‘click’ — presumably from Race shutting his bedroom door, Charlie laughed maniacally. Jack’s eyes widened in concern, for he never saw the boy like this.
“I was lying when I said that he and Albert were getting close,” Charlie confessed with a wheeze. “I mean, it’s still April Fools’ Day, right?”
Jack practically sprinted out of the classroom when he heard the lunch bell. He abruptly stopped himself, quietly chastising himself for being so eager, and continued to walk…at a moderate pace.
He would get so many questions from his brothers and friends on where he was during lunch, but he currently didn’t care. That was later-Jack’s problem.
When he reached the back of the school, he took the plastic tupperware out of his now-full backpack. Jack took a second to look around: a tree here and there, dead grass, and the students’ parking lot (filled with cars of all colors!). What a tour.
Why anyone preferred this over the nice, regularly maintained courtyard within the gate’s of the school, he’ll never know.
It didn’t take long to spy David; he was the only student in the area. He sat underneath a fairly large tree that produced an equally fairly large amount of shade. He was engrossed in a book. When Jack walked up to him, David didn’t look up until Jack stood right in front of him.
He met him with a warm smile. Jack couldn’t help but return it.
“Didn’t think you’d actually follow through,” David said with a small laugh. He bookmarked his page and shut his book, producing a small thud. How large was that book? He slipped it in his teal backpack, with the smallest pocket painted in a golden yellow.
Jack chuckled, sitting down in front of David. “Tell me to do something, and I’ll do it.” He handed him the container. David took it and only set it down next to him, not bothering to put it away right then.
“Sounds like a challenge.”
Jack only shrugged. Despite the warm weather, David sported an off-white cable knit sweater and brown pants that were sure to get grass stains on them. His fingers were decked out with golden rings, and Jack only noticed the cartilage piercing on his right ear.
“Dave, you ain’t sweatin’?” Jack asked, not thinking about the fact that they barely knew each other and weren’t in the nickname-stage yet. But that was fine! Yeah, totally!
But it was completely fine; David didn’t seem to care about the new name.
“Oh yeah, I’m sweating my balls off,” David said. Jack laughed, crinkling his eyes and all. This caused David to whole-heartedly laugh, like a chain. “No, seriously! I didn’t check the weather this morning, and I’m currently regretting my decision. Like, I have a tank top underneath, but I feel like you can only wear ‘em when you’re, like, jacked. But couldn’t be me with my fucking noodle arms! And the fact that I’m tall makes it like 10 times worse.”
“I’m sure you’re better off showing off your ‘noodle arms’ than passing out from heat exhaustion,” Jack tried to reason. “Besides, you can just wear your gym shirt.”
“That is true…but I’m not that proud of the school I go to,” David joked, his lips curled up into a small smile. He looked like he was trying to fight laughter. He was referring to the fact that their gym shirt was just the shirt with the school’s logo printed on the front. The school sold the shirt as merchandise, and neither of the two would’ve bought the shirt if it wasn’t required to.
“Y’know, fair.”
David hummed, content to have his agreement. He looked up at the sunny sky before sticking up his middle finger at the sun. Jack’s face contorted in surprise at the suddenness of it.
“Fuck you, sun!” David yelled so loud that the whole city probably heard it. Jack couldn’t help but double over in laughter. This boy went from being so kind to give his pastries to cheer Jack up to flipping the sun off for no damn good reason. But, in either situation, Jack felt his pulse rush and felt oddly comfortable. To a degree, David must’ve also felt comfortable with Jack to be yelling obscenities at the sun. What other layers were there to this mystery boy?
“What did…the sun do…to you?” Jack said in between wheezes.
“Exist,” David snorted. He leaned back on his arms, his shoulders squared. “Forgive me for this question…but, if the sun was personified, do you think it would be a top or a bottom?”
If Jack had liquid in his mouth, he’d be spitting it all over David.
“What kind of question is that?” Jack said, more high-pitched than expected. Okay, so he also had a dirty mind.
“An important one,” David joked.
“Okay, well— er…” Jack paused, mentally questioning on why he was putting thought into this. “I think it would — it would pretend to be a top, but it’d, uh, it’d actually be a needy ass bottom.”
“Not even a switch?” David pretended to be stunned.
Jack chuckled, “…Maybe a power bottom.”
“Sure, sure…” David nodded. He looked over to a car driving past on the street. It was blasting some Doja Cat song. He bopped his head to it. Honestly, Jack thought it was cute, but then he slapped the thought out of his head. He’d come to terms with his sexuality 2 years prior, but he just met David yesterday. These thoughts were coming too soon.
“Where did that question even come from?” Jack asked. He knew David meant it as a joke, but he did wonder about the thought process behind it.
“I don’t know,” David shrugged. “I thought of it…and I have no filter, so I asked it.”
“So, y-you’re telling me…that a question like that came ou- y’know what? Don’t answer.” Jack shook his head.
David just snorted.
For a few moments, David studied the dirty blonde with an unreadable expression. It messed with Jack’s mind, to say the least. It made him a little nervous.
“Umm,” Jack cleared his throat, “why do you…sit back here?”
David seemed to snap out of…whatever he was in and shot him a smile — possibly genuine.
“Actually, my sister — y’know, the person who baked the brownies — used to sit here with her friends. I was never big on the social scene, so I’d come with her. None of ‘em seemed to mind, though.” David waved his right animatedly, keeping himself propped up on his left, as he explained. “But all of them graduated last year, so it’s just me,” he pointed to himself.
“What’s her name? Your sister?”
“What? You interested in my sister? Damn, those brownies must’ve been baked with some love potion.” David joked. He must have seen Jack’s expression — wide-eyed, jaw unhinged, red cheeks and equally red ears — because he threw his head back in genuine laughter. Despite the fact that David’s laugh was directed towards him, Jack decided that he really liked that sound and wanted it on replay. After he calmed himself, David clarified, “I’m jokin’, promise!”
“Mhmm,” Jack hummed, pretending to act unconvinced.
“Her name is Sarah. Sarah Jacobs.”
Jack went through his ‘data space’ to find the words ‘Sarah Jacobs’. His brain clicked. “Oh! She was on color guard, right?”
“Yup,” David nodded, popping the ‘p’. “But, seriously, she has a girlfriend anyways. So, ya don’t have a chance.”
“Wasn’t interested in the first place,” Jack softly laughed. More interested in her brotha’, his brain added involuntarily.
It only registered that, since his sister was Sarah Jacobs, sitting right across from him was David Jacobs. Jack somehow never interacted with him since his move into the Larkin residence in middle school.
However, he’s heard whispers of him in the hallway. The word used most while describing him was “nerd” because of an apparent 4.0 GPA, he was a favorite amongst teachers, and his many, many clubs. But none of these “whispers” talked about how fucking cute he was. Jack pushed away any thoughts of scolding himself because, at this point, he didn’t care. He had eyes, and he was allowed to admire. From his dark brown tousled hair, to his blue eyes, to his angular nose, to his sense of style, to his curse of a mouth — Jack has known him for less than 24 hours and already felt his heart hitch. Amazing.
He took a breather from his thoughts to shrug off his backpack. Jack rolled his tense shoulder muscles, only realizing how much damage the backpack had done. While he relieved his pain, David apparently remembered his lunch. He sat back upright and picked up his half-eaten sandwich, taking a small bite out of it. The brunette quickly chewed through it.
“After highschool,” David said once he swallowed his bite, “what do you wanna do?”
“I don’t really wanna go to college…” Jack trailed off, unsure, in case of any negative comments from David. Instead, he seemed to pay full attention to him with curious eyes. Jack continued, “Maybe I’ll go straight into the art business. Sellin’ original works and commissions and all that.”
“You’re interested in art?” David asked, but not to mock or tease him. David sounded genuinely interested. It made Jack happier than he expected.
“Yeah…” Jack got an idea. “Give me a second…”
He unzipped the largest pocket in his backpack and rummaged through the pile of school supplies. Jack silently cursed, not able to find his sketchbook in that pocket and tried the next pocket down. Race had shoved everything back in his backpack seemingly in the middle of the night (it was stuffed to the brim when Jack woke up; he couldn’t even find any of his supplies the day previous), and Jack hadn’t bothered the organization.
David was quiet until he gasped. “You’re bi?” he blurted before he clamped a pale hand over his mouth. Jack looked up, shooting him a small grin.
“I am. And it’s alright, you’re fine.” Jack added to try to reassure David. The comments about his sexuality weren’t anything new, but, then again, he literally a pin of the bisexual flag on his backpack. The teen wasn’t ashamed to (literally) wear his colors.
“I-I didn’t mean that in a rude way — I’m literally gay. It’s just — just I…have zero filter.” David murmured and buried his head in his hands. Jack was pretty sure his face was now red, and it wasn’t because of the bright sun.
Jack sighed, sure that anything he’d say wouldn’t help. He went back to trying to find his sketchbook. But his brain only screamed out one thing: he’s gay and Jack may have a chance, as selfish as that fucking sounded. He now hated himself for studying the boy’s features a few minutes ago.
He let out a breath of relief when he eventually did find his sketchbook hidden underneath crinkled papers. He briefly flipped through the pages to make sure it wasn’t anything too horrendous.
“David, Dave,” he tried, but David wouldn’t look up, only mumble rushed words.
Jack stretched his leg to tap David’s exposed foot tucked under his leg with his own sneakered-foot. David slowly pried his hands away from his face, looking up at him with shy eyes and a blazing red face. He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Jack softly smiled and handed him his prized possession.
David shot him a confused look before looking back down at the clearly used sketchbook in his hands. The cardboard cover was scratched and ripped in the top right corner and, in the bottom left corner, read ‘child 17: 3/19/2021’ and next to it was a dash and an empty space for the date of when Jack finishes it.
“‘Child 17’?” David mused. “Sounds like you’re writing its birth and death.”
Jack shushed him. “Just look at it.”
David grinned widely, and Jack was glad that he was the one to cause the breathtaking sight. He flipped open to the first page and gasped. Jack wasn’t sure why — it was only a warm-up sketch of a nearby park — but he didn’t mind it. David continued to flip through each page, admiring the intricate detail work of every drawing and tracing his fingers over the line work. He looked so fascinated and determined to memorize every little detail.
“You’re unbelievably good,” David said in awe. It was probably the tenth time he had said something along those lines
“Thanks,” Jack bounced his leg up and down as he nervously watched the taller boy look through his work. His reactions made Jack a nervous wreck, solely due to the fact that he had no clue how to take positive reaffirmations, especially so many at once.
“Wait—” David’s head snapped up, his expression unreadable. “Why’re you showing me this again? Not that I’m complaining! But…”
“We were talking ‘bout what we wanted to do when we’re outta this hellhole,” Jack reminded David with a small chuckle. David giggled at his reiteration. Shit, Jack could’ve melted on the spot.
“Did I tell you what I wanted to do? I feel like I didn’t? And I do like talking.” David said.
“You didn’t,” Jack chuckled. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to talk about the future, but—”
Ring!
“…I have a feeling that we won’t have enough time,” Jack finished with a sigh.
“Shit.” David immediately started to clasp the lid on his half-eaten lunch and meticulously inserted it in his backpack. His brows furrowed in annoyance, and he reached both hands in the backpack to fix whatever seemed disorganized in his eyes.
When Jack realized his idiotic staring, he stood up and swung his backpack over his shoulder. He swore he heard his back crack. Ugh.
David zipped his backpack and stood up. He swept the loose grass off of his clothes and picked up his backpack and Jack’s sketchbook. David was about to hand it to its owner when Jack stepped back.
“Keep it. For now and give it to me tomorrow. You can…text me your thoughts tonight. You do have my number.” The words were out of Jack’s mouth before he could rethink anything. He tried to sound confident with his idea, but his voice was wavering.
David seemed hesitant. “Sure,” he relented, “I’ll do that.”
Jack felt like it was because David didn’t want to fight with Jack on such a trivial thing and wanted to get to class on time. But it also did get Jack the answer he had hoped for.
“Good,” Jack winked. David’s face flushed before he rushed to his next class, leaving Jack behind, standing in place and lamely waving his goodbye.
Jack thought that maybe, maybe the cute blush could’ve been because David liked Jack. Or something similar.
He was an optimistic person, one could say.
If his heart could talk, it’d be yelling, “Please don’t be kiddin’ me, brain!” because he felt like his heart could explode from the thought and the thought alone.