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The ceiling. It was a common place for Jake to be staring (specifically on his couch), wondering how anything happened to him.
This time the question was: how did he manage to get dragged into a conversation about religion and asked his opinion on Christianity?
He fucked up hard when answering, but was that really his fault? He was panicking, that church hurt him, the people in it hurt him.
The silence of his house weighed down on him, and with no lights on he could barely see.
He thought about calling Rich, just to have someone to talk to and maybe forget about everything but he was pulled out of his thoughts by his phone going off.
He grabbed it and read the message.
Oliver> Hey. Can we talk?
Bad sign. Why was his partner for a science project weeks ago texting him, and why was he asking to talk? But the real question was: was he gonna get yelled at or sent to the school counselor?
A bit of (probably unreasonable) panic sent in as he messaged back, hands shaking.
Jake> about what?
It was just a simple question, it could be about anything! He had multiple classes with Oliver, who said it was about history?
Oliver> about what you said
Oliver> during history
Shit.
Welp his life was practically over.
Jake> what'd I say?
He stared at his screen. His hands were shaking badly, his breathing short and shallow.
Oliver> during the student discussion
Oliver> you said something about a church if I heard correctly
Maybe if he acted stupid he could get out of this situation, it was his best bet. With shaking hands he responded.
Jake> I don't know what you're talking about
“Please drop it…” he whispered to himself.
Oliver> I know what I heard
His stomach churned.
Oliver> no offense but I'm not stupid
Oliver> and I know you aren't either
Oliver> so please, tell me
Oliver> or a counselor
Oliver> I'm worried about you
Jake tried to type out a response, then deleted it. Tried again, deleted. Again, and again, and again, all deleted.
How do you even respond to that? He didn't know. He didn't want Oliver to be worried, he didn't want anyone to be worried, and if he went to the counselor he'd most likely end up in foster care or in the house of some relative he's never met.
This is what he got for opening his stupid mouth. He should've stayed quiet.
He set his phone down and got up, heading to the kitchen.
~~
Oliver stared at his phone as he sat on the edge of his bed.
Three dots, then gone. Back, gone again. This repeated a few times before disappearing all together.
He sighed, worry beginning to consume him. He just wanted to know if Jake was okay. He was an observant guy (at least he'd call himself one) and he could tell something was up with him.
Despite hanging with a lot of people his only real friend seemed to be Rich, he avoided talking about his home life and parents, and he got really fidgety and nervous during the class discussion during history.
He tried texting again, hoping for a response.
Oliver> Jake
Oliver> Jake please
The messages sat for a second then, ‘read’. He read them, but no response.
In a mix of frustration and worry he tried calling. It rang a few times before Jake presumably hung up.
He tried again. It rang for longer but… he picked up!
“What?” Straight and to the point. He didn't sound frustrated, just kinda tired, mostly how he sounded at school.
“You didn't respond to my messages,” Oliver said calmly. “I'm worried.”
“There's nothing to be worried about,” he responded, brushing him off.
“I know you're not an arrogant popular kid, you're putting on an act,” worry seeped into his voice.
“I told you, there's nothing to be worried about.” He heard Jake moving around. “So please, leave me alone…” he sounded tired and done with everything.
“No,” he stood his ground. “I know there's something wrong so just–” he hung up.
He began panic texting him. Sure it was spamming and his phone was probably blowing up but he was worried.
But they were all left on sent.
He sighed. Not read in five minutes. Not read in 10. Then…
His phone buzzed, Jake was calling back!
He quickly answered.
“Jake! Are you okay? You hung up and–”
“I'm sorry.” His voice was shaking badly.
“It's okay, I just…” he trailed off. He didn't know how far away the phone was from Jake but he could faint sobbing. “Are you crying?”
“I'm sorry okay!?” The sobbing got louder as he began talking quickly, making it hard to understand him. “I-I have bad experiences with Christianity, I was panicking during history!” He stopped talking for a second before continuing. “I didn't want to talk about it, I don't want to talk about it! I-I felt like you were making me, I'm sorry…” he sniffled and sobbed. He took a moment to gather himself before talking again at a normal pace. “I-I hung up and did something bad…”
“What'd you do?” He asked slowly.
“Promise you won't tell anyone…?” he said, voice shaking.
“I promise.”
“O-okay. Don't freak out… I–” he paused, gathering himself. “I cut myself.”
“Cut yourself… like, you self-harmed?” He asked slowly, feeling his stomach drop. Not only did Jake Dillinger, the school's most popular kid and best football player have some sort of religious trauma, but he also cut himself.
Silence came from the other line, he could only slightly hear Jake's breathing.
“I'm sorry…” then he hung up again.
“Jake? Jake!” Oliver panicked as the line went dead. He needed more than just Oliver, that was obvious, but he didn't want to turn him into the school counselor, he didn't know his home life and didn't want to risk getting him taken away from his parents or whoever he lived with without knowing much.
He sighed, there wasn't much he could do, his only bet was talking to him at school.
~~
Oliver planned to confront him but was ultimately stopped when he realized Jake was popular and constantly surrounded by people he didn't even seem to like.
At lunch he sat somewhere he had a good view of Jake and the other popular kids. He was losing hope on getting to talk in person today till Jake got up and left presumably going to the bathroom.
He quickly got up and followed, staying far enough behind to not be suspected.
Someone walking into the bathroom after him obviously made Jake turn around. He stared at Oliver.
“Guess I don't have to use the bathroom after all,” he muttered, leaving again.
“Wait–” Oliver started but didn't get to finish as Jake walked out. He followed him out.
Jake tried to go to a different bathroom but–
“Ow, FUCK!” He got hit in the face with an opening door. “Ugh, sorry, sorry,” he said to the teacher who opened it while covering his nose. “I didn't mean to curse.”
“It’s okay, are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he pulled his hand away from his face to see blood. “I'll uh, go to the nurse.”
“I'll take you!” Oliver said, coming up beside him. The teacher nodded.
“You boys better hurry.”
“We will,” Oliver said quickly following Jake as he began to leave.
They walked in silence to the nurses for a bit before Jake spoke up.
“Why are you following me?”
“I wanted to talk about–”
“Shh! What happened didn't matter, we don't need to talk about it.” He seemed set on his decision.
“It… it does matter!” He said as they got to the nurses office. The nurse wasn't there.
Jake groaned and sat down in one of the chairs, grabbing a tissue to plug his nose with.
“It doesn't matter! I spiraled, so what? That's what I always do. I'm just being a little bitch over nothing,” he said, just wanting Oliver to drop it.
“It does matter! You hurt yourself over it, it's not being a little bitch if it mattered enough to you that you would do that.” He stared at the taller boy. Jake sighed.
“There's nothing you or anyone could do to fix my situation, to fix me. Life fucked me over and I just have to deal with that.” He fidgeted. “I'm not going to attempt though, if you're worried about that.”
He moved the tissue to see if his nose was still bleeding, upon seeing it wasn't he got up and walked to the door.
“Wait!” Oliver grabbed his hand. “You need to see the counselor, or a therapist. You can't just… live like this,” he said.
“2 years,” he said.
“What?” Jake just stared at him before pulling his hand away and leaving.