Terrible Things

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He picked up a framed photo gently, careful not to move the dust on the top around. Every single thing in this old cardboard box was precious to him, even the gathering dust sitting on top of the photos he had brought with him when he moved into this house years ago.

"Holy shit, what was I thinking," The man said, flipping over the framed photo. Down at the bottom, it read '2007' in chicken-scratch handwriting. In even smaller print, he scanned across four faint names written in pen.

Jack, Alex, Zack, & Rian.

He flipped the photo back over, bringing it close to his face so he could see past the two inches of collected dust. And there they all were. 14 years ago seems like it was yesterday to him. He didn't want to grow up. He had no choice. People get older, they change, they expire.

People expire.

And then, it all came flooding back. The people. The memories. Every single person he had managed to meet within 14 years. The 14 years he spent living his dream. Those 14 years where he had managed to get away with being a little kid almost all the time, joking about immature stuff such as sex and drugs. How he could have any teenage girl he ever wanted wrapped around his finger, at any time.

How he had him wrapped around his finger, falling apart at the seams every time he said his name. He missed that.

Oh, did Jack miss Alex. More than anyone would ever know.

He remembered back when he was seventeen, a senior in high school, being able to live out his dreams of playing guitar in his very own band. He remembered the first time ever meting Alex and Zack and Rian, their first big performance. How they would share every single feeling going through their minds before shows. He remembered the moment when they all knew they were gonna make it big in the music industry quite clearly. He remembered some of heart-wrenching stories some of his fans told him, some of the stuff he'd been given at meet and greets, causing him to chuckle. He missed being surprised by loving and caring fans, not knowing what he was getting himself into.

But Jack also remembered the day he turned 29. That was five years ago, but he remembers it like it just happened yesterday. His birthday, the whole big birthday bash Alex had been planning since the day after his 28th birthday. God, he loved that kid so much. Always went out of his goddamn way to make others he cared about happy. He remembered the grand cake Alex had made especially for him, the party decorations, he remembered right after the party when Alex said he "wanted to talk."

He remembers disbanding the band.

He remembered agreeing to marry the boy of his dreams. Remembered putting out on twitter that the band was splitting up.

Jack remembered the videos he saw his fans make, 20 minutes or so at the least, countless girls and guys crying into a camera about how much they were gonna miss seeing their heroes live, or miss waiting for new albums and interviews to come out. He remembers sitting on his little couch in his new little house in Boston, Massachusetts, watching these videos for hours on end, biting his lip as tears fell softly from his cheek. Alex would always bring him more tissues and warm coffee and go, "It's for the best."

He remembers becoming serious with Alex, and becoming serious with the world and his own image.

Jack remembers what the rest of the band went and did, too. He remembers how Rian went off to marry Cassadee and move to Los Angeles. How Zack went off into the music industry alone to try and experiment. And how himself and Alex god married and adopted a little girl.

He remembers getting rid of his twitter. Selling every single 'BONER' shirt he brought with him when he moved. That was one of the hardest parts of moving on and separating himself from "25 year old guitarist of All Time Low Jack Barakat" and "34 year old husband Jack Barakat." He remembered when he sat down with Alex and dyed his hair a more normal, solid color. He remembers getting his first real job as an attorney. Wearing a suit to work every single day. No more random inappropriate outbursts. Never letting his tattoos show in public. He remembers how much he hated that job.

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