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When Jack turned 13, this first birthday since being rescued from the island, his parents placed him into the care of Roger’s family. Not that Roger’s family was any better than his, but they both agreed it would be better for them to ‘help eachother heal’.
Then Jack turned 14, his parents sent him to see a psychiatrist after his doctors insisted for the, what, tenth time? He was diagnosed with something, Jack didn’t care much.
Roger had also been sent to see a psychiatrist, Jack stopped going after 2 visits. Roger however did not, Jack thought it would help, and so he asked Roger to continue, atleast for his sake. Jack, himself, did not deserve help. Not after everything.
On his 15th birthday was his first trip to a mental facility after he hit an artery, and bleed out in the bathroom tub, Roger stayed with him in the hospital room. It smelt of chemicals, and metal.
Jack’s 16th birthday was his personal favorite, Roger’s parents left for business, and it was just him and Roger left. Like it always has been. Him and Roger kissed for the first time, Roger was warm, not warm enough for Jack, but it was comforting. They’d also dyed Jack’s hair black, it suited his eyes, it reminded the both of them of Simon.
Jack was now 17, Roger left for college a month before, and Jack moved back in with his parents. Roger seemed happier without Jack, so maybe it was for the best.
Jack was venturing the dimly lit streets of Manchester, and landed himself into a bar. He’d seen somebody he thought he knew in it, Ralph. He sat down with him.
“Do I, uhm, know you?” Ralph asked when Jack pulled out the chair to the table Ralph was seated out. His words were slurred, Jack cringed.
“It’s me, Jack.”
Ralph bit his tongue, and took another sip of his beer. Jack concluded that Ralph was still only 16, not that Jack particularly cared.
“Black hair suits you,” Ralph said, forcing a small smile. “So, 5 years has it?”
“Yes.” Jack looked away, Ralph looked mostly the same, same blondish hair—though now it was more of a dirty blonde. Some of his features were more defined, and sharp now.
“So, you’re 16, right?”
“17, today is my birthday.”
The night ended with Jack alone in his room. A year passed. Jack stayed for one week at a mental facility before his 18th birthday. Jack moved to London, Roger came to visit, it was a short visit, he left 2 days before his birthday.
Jack found himself at London bridge, he’d waited, waited for something, he wasn’t sure what. He stood up when another shadow appeared.
Ralph.
“Happy 18th.” Ralph said, smiling.
Jack stood in awe for a minute, “Thanks.”
“Aren’t you going to jump?”
“Would you stop me?”
“I forgive you.”
“You really shouldn’t.”
There was a pause, before Ralph responded.“I know.”