Home is a Four Letter Word

chapter nine

Senior Prom, Early April

In an unlocked practice room down in the music hall, Jake sat on the linoleum floor and took a deep breath that didn't feel deep enough. The cold gray tiles brought his warm body a hint of comfort as he rolled the sleeves of his button down up to his elbows in hopes that it would cool him off. It didn't do much, but it allowed him to breathe, and for that he was forever grateful that someone had forgotten to lock the room when they left last night.

All the music rooms were supposed to be locked on game nights and for big events. Last year two couples were busted hooking up in them at homecoming, and since then, they were strictly off-limits outside of school hours. Even during school hours some of his more adventurous classmates were willing to take the risk. People like Samantha Price.

He brought his knees up to his chest rather loosely—just close enough so he could rest his arms out on them as he stared at the dark piano bench in front of him. When he rocked his head back into the cinderblock wall, he didn't mind how he met it with a thud that reminded him that pain was real. Pain is real, I am real, and prom is a living hell.

He hated himself. The feeling was impossible to shake. Every inch of his brain scoured to pick up the pieces of what he could salvage with Katherine, but his heart broke down every piece further until they were no longer manageable or recognizable. It hurt, but it was a necessary evil. He could never, ever, give Katherine the life she wanted and rightfully deserved. Katherine was perfect in every single way. She was the type to 'bring home to momma,' a bright eyed girl with a pretty face and a Christian heart. She was the kind of ideal that filled Jake's fantasies of a perfect life here—completed if he could only bring himself to find the feelings he needed for her. But, even though he had tried and tried and tried, searching within himself for any inkling of hope, he found none. It wouldn't be fair to pretend with her because he knew better than anyone that she deserved better than that. Anything else would be selfish and cruel. Jake Holmes was not known for being either of those—sometimes to a fault.

His stomach turned over with his nerves and he immediately regretted eating so much pizza earlier with the boys. It helped with the alcohol that Jake barely had, but it did absolutely nothing to make him feel like he didn't want to throw it all up. Leaning his head down in anguish, Jake hoped maybe resting his forehead on his arms would make him forget about the sorry state of his body. It didn't. The food hadn't originally made him ill, the overplayed voice in the back of his head telling him he was a piece of shit was doing a good enough job on its own.

The door opened and Jake immediately regretted not locking it behind himself.

Maybe they'll just go away.

"Shit, sorry. You're not Kaylee."

The voice was enough to make him double back on that regret. His gaze snapped up to Connor, an all too familiar friendly face that stared back at him with a considering glare. Where he was previously fidgeting with the door handle, he stopped when he saw Jake, realizing exactly who he had just walked in on.

"Connor." Jake mumbled less as a question and more of a statement.

"Yeah, sorry." He looked around the room as if expecting someone else to pop out from behind the piano. "Kaylee said she was heading down here to– well I just... was looking for her... I'll get out of your hair..."

"You can stay." Jake rested his head down on his arms. "If you want."

Please stay.

He looked unsure, but as soon as Jake finished, Connor was closing the door behind him, nodding to acknowledge Jake's request. The small room was dark—the only interruption coming in through a small window that allowed the orange glow of a parking lot light to warm the room with just enough to see, however eerily it may have been. Jake watched as Connor sat down on the piano bench a couple feet away, noting how tired he looked underneath the hair that slipped down into his face past his ears. He had changed nearly nothing about his look to come tonight, but somehow everything felt different.