Ever After

Young Love

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This chapter is in Mark's perspective.

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It's been six weeks and I still can't forget the feeling of Jack's fingers against my skin, his lips against mine.

It was a feeling like no other, one that was impossible to shake off. The very memory of our night together was difficult enough, but this took the cake. What we'd done that night felt like a dream, one that I never wanted to wake up from - and yet, finding myself to wake up next to him brought even more joy than the night before had.

There was just something about him, the way he was always there, the way he'd promised me that he would never leave, that he would never ditch his inner emotions ever again. I could still feel the vibration of his accent against my ear, pounding my heart like a drum against my chest, my chest that was pressed against his embrace. I couldn't recall a single moment when we weren't touching one another - once we were alone and in private, we both knew that it was now or never, that a moment this close and secret would never be offered to us again.

We didn't even have to do anything, either. Jack wasn't the kind of guy to force you to keep up a reputation, and he would never make me feel as if I had to keep up with the conversation. He was always so laid-back and relaxed, not taking into consideration the fact that some couples actually did things together (in public), and I loved that about him. The fact that other couples could walk down along the beach, hand in hand, while Jack was perfectly fine keeping his hands in his pockets and his back lazily slouched next to me on the couch marvelled me beyond belief.

He brought out a new side of me, a side I'd never gotten a good look at. He actually managed to show me that there was a slight part in my personality, a part of my very being, that wasn't so uptight, a part of me that was simplistic and didn't mind not having to rush around in order to find some time to study before leaving for work. It was as if he'd shown me a mirror, one that he carried in his pocket in order to prove that nobody was who they thought they were - as he'd explained thoroughly that night, he wasn't straight (like he'd forced himself to believe), and I wasn't always going to be a stuck-up, nosy nerd that never attracted the attention of cute girls (and didn't want to, at that).

I couldn't put it into words. It was everything about him; the way he snored gently in his sleep, the way he'd stroked at my hair when he'd thought I'd dozed off, the way he gave me that look without any effort whatsoever, a look that could give me every ounce of reassurance I needed to keep moving forward, a look that could tell you that everything was going to be all right, a look that made you feel automatic comfort despite the way it made you feel as if you were on a pedestal, more important than the rest of the world. It was a look that I couldn't erase from my memory, a look that I would never forget - it was a look that greeted me to every class, a look that (now) walked me home after school, a look that promised me that we would someday live in an apartment with a golden retriever just like I'd always wanted.

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The relationship had blossomed into more than what I'd expected. I couldn't get over the fact that Jack, who was (three months ago) a punked-up, "leave me alone" type of guy, had grown into the type of gay teenager to play footsie with his boyfriend under the desk (thanks to Mrs. Jefferson changing the seating plan). Every day was an adventure with him, for there was far too much to do together now that we were in a relationship. Most of our time was spent seeing who could be the first to get to class, but we enjoyed seeing who could slide the furthest down the slippery hall floor, or who could hold their breath the longest in the swimming pool. And, every night, my cheeks were given the same pain, the burn from having smiled far too much for the regular person - however, after having spent so much time with Jack, I'd soon discovered that there was no longer a chance of me ever turning out to be a regular person.